The INNER-Ludes
by California Kat
Summary: A collection of Interludes/Outtakes/Side Stories to From the Inside Out—all told from NON-Eric POVs. All of these further the narrative of the Inner-Verse, however, so I hope that you won't skip them. "Where/When" they belong in the overall universe will be included in a headnote for each and in author's notes for From the Inside Out.
1. INNER-Lude 1--Pam

**The INNER-Ludes**

 **Summary:** A collection of Interludes/Outtakes/Side Stories to _From the Inside Out_ —all told from NON-Eric POVs. All of these further the narrative of the _Inner-Verse_ , however, so I hope that you won't skip them. "Where/When" they belong in the overall universe will be included in a headnote for each.

[ **A/N:** The _Inner-verse_ (with the exception of the epilogues, which I let Sookie have) was always intended to be told from Eric's first-person POV only. However, I found that I wanted—and _needed_ —to include a few scenes where he wouldn't be present. I was going to include these scenes in the main story, but I didn't want to mess with Eric's POV over there. Right now, I'm planning to do three, but that number might change a bit as I go along. They will still be in told in first-person—just from the POV of the person in the title rather than Eric.]

* * *

 **INNER-Lude 1—Pam**

 **Headnote: This INNER-Lude should be read after chapter 12 of** _ **From the Inside Out**_

* * *

As my maker had instructed, Tara and I left the Authority's headquarters—which, unfortunately, also meant abandoning my "play-time" with Steve Newlin, who was due to be taken into custody by the General _du jour_ —in order to scope out Governor Truman Burrell's personal version of a hell for vampires.

Newlin was, however, already primed to be a nice little boy and to confess to everything that the human authorities would accuse him of. Between me and Eric's delectable friend Ian, Newlin had gotten a taste of what his imprisonment by vampires would entail if he didn't cooperate. I'm pretty sure that liquid silver being rubbed onto his skin like lotion had been his deciding factor.

As long as Newlin played along, the humans would keep him in a cell—safe and sound from the big bad wolves, his fellow vampires. They'd give him a bed with a lumpy mattress, instead of a silver-lined coffin, upon which to rest. They'd give him access to books to read, instead of ripping out his eyes each night. They'd offer him TrueBlood, rather than rat rations. They'd hide him away in a basement cell that light wouldn't touch, instead of zapping him with ultraviolet radiation just so that they could joke that "smoking was bad for him."

Hell—they'd probably even let him try to "redeem" himself by allowing Bill O'Reilly or some other "newsman" to interview him. I could imagine his "apology" book now; it would likely be called, _How Russell Edgington Glamoured Me_.

Yeah—with his cock!

Speaking of glamour, Newlin had been told that his warden and guards would be glamoured to give him right back to us if he implicated any vampires other than Russell, Salome, and himself in _any_ crimes. I licked my lips, part of me hoping that the bastardly buffoon would try to worm his way out of his troubles by telling the humans the truth about what had occurred at the Authority.

As if they would believe him!

I parked the vehicle Nora had so graciously "lent" us. Talk about a fucking bitch! Yes—I'd been a bit upset that Eric had never told me that he had a vampire sibling, but I understood once I knew she'd been an Authority member. Thus, I'd "tried" to be nice to Nora—at least my version of nice. And, then, I'd tried to be cordial. I was now down to just "being," but if the cunt said one more thing against my maker's mate in my presence, my fabulous Prada boot would spend time "being" in her ass!

Admittedly, I could be a brat. And Eric did spoil me at times. But I "usually" knew when I was in danger of moving into "twat-territory." Nora seemed to reside there!

Moreover, the bitch treated me as if I were a wilted branch on Godric's family tree! And she failed to acknowledge the fact that it was my progeny and myself who had captured Newlin to begin with—not that _that_ was much of a challenge. But I'd also had the prissy ex-preacher cooperating like my little bitch, even before she entered the scene.

 _AND_ the cunt had insulted my child.

AND she'd insinuated that I ought not to have been "brought over" because I'd "only been a Madam and whore" during my human life.

Not that I took either of those labels as an insult. I'd been a fucking good Madam and an even better whore when I'd wanted to be. No man had owned me! All I had needed was to find my own Fountain of Youth before I was no longer able to control my life. And I did—my maker!

Yes. I'd forced Eric's hand by cutting my wrists, but I'd been prepared to die that night—rather than continue playing Russian roulette with venereal diseases and the cruelty of time. I'd known what Eric was, and I had _chosen_ to be his child. But he had chosen me, too; he didn't have to. He could have simply let me die. Moreover, I'd spent most of my time since then proving just how valuable I could be to him! And I didn't intend to stop that just because he'd released me!

Therefore, Nora had no right to turn up her nose at me! NONE!

I _might_ have betrayed Eric—a SMIDGEON—when I tried to shoot Sookie Stackhouse with a rocket launcher. But I'd been trying to save his ass at the time. And she hadn't been his bonded at the time; even I knew how sacred that was! Plus, I was pretty sure that Sookie would now agree that I'd made the right call, given the fact that she was currently knocked up with my maker's babies.

 _My little brothers!_

Tara broke me from my thoughts.

"We just gonna sit here for the rest of the night—twiddling our fuckin' thumbs?" she asked. "We only have a few hours before dawn."

I looked at my child. She'd managed to grow on me. Despite Eric telling me that I should make a child of my own, I'd not planned to do so for a while. And I'd certainly not intended to make one at the behest of Sookie Stackhouse. But—as soon as I'd felt Tara rise—I'd liked the feeling of our blood-bond. It was similar to the one I'd shared—until very recently—with my own maker. But it was also somehow "richer."

However, like a teenaged mother not quite ready for a baby, I'd—at first—tried to deny that I wanted to "keep my baby," rather than abandon her. But I'd come around.

"No," I smirked. "I'm going to teach you how to do recon properly—just as my maker once taught me!"

"Sounds like fun," she grinned as her fangs came down.

Sexy as hell.

I pulled her toward me for a quick, passionate kiss and then got out of the car; after she'd "recovered" for a moment, she got out of the passenger side with a huff.

"Now—I just want to fuck!" she said sullenly.

I chuckled. "Ah—and we will. _After_."

Tara huffed out another protest, but quickly mimicked my actions as I stealthily approached the large warehouse complex. Like busy little bees, workers buzzed in and out of the buildings. Luckily, the group putting up the thirty-foot high security fences, which I could tell had silver in them, weren't done with their project, so it was easy for Tara and me to slip in.

My leaping capabilities would have been "challenged" by such a tall fence. I rolled my eyes, thinking about my maker's ability to fly. The best I could do was hover, though I ran fast for my age.

And—yes—I was jealous of Eric's ability!

Soon enough, I found an isolated worker, glamoured him, and interrogated him.

Then I'd instructed Tara to complete the process with another worker.

She performed magnificently. Like maker, like child.

Twenty minutes after we'd gotten to the complex, we slipped back out and returned to the vehicle. As I drove back to the Authority headquarters—which I figured would be a safe place to rest for the day since the humans were no longer likely to blow it up with their bunker busters—I called my maker.

"Report," Eric said in a whisper.

"Sookie is sleeping?" I asked him.

"Yes. Your mistress is growing our sons," he returned. Even with his voice quieted, I could hear the smile in it.

"They are all well?"

"Yes. Did you learn anything about the Vamp Camp?"

"Yes," I informed. "Tara and I glamoured two workers. Between them, we learned that the construction of the 'Vampire Center,' as they're calling it, will be completed within ten days; however the scientists' laboratories and living quarters are almost ready. In fact, the nefarious nerd herd will be moving in to begin 'God's work' two nights from now."

"Vampire Center—how quaint," intoned my maker.

"A regular YMCA for vampers," I returned, affecting a Southern accent that would have made even Bill Compton's seem subtle.

Eric chuckled.

"Do you want us to return to do more reconnaissance tomorrow night?" I asked.

"No. Brady is going to take over surveillance, along with two other Weres."

"Herveaux?" I asked with distaste.

"No. My dealings with him are done. Had he installed a back-up system and had a more competent guard than Shaggy watching the parking garage that housed Russell, much of the fuckery at the Authority could have been avoided."

"Shaggy?" I couldn't help but ask. "As in _Scooby Doo_?"

"Long story," he sighed.

I chuckled. "I can't wait to hear it when we have more time."

"I'll text you Brady's number. Text him a briefing before dawn," Eric instructed.

"And tomorrow night?"

"Governor Burrell has a daughter, Willa, who seems to be sympathetic to vampires. I want you to try to make contact with her and see if she will voluntarily be our spy."

"And if she fails to volunteer?" I asked.

"Glamour her. Oh—and Pam—don't let your presence be known to anyone other than Willa Burrell. You might see Sarah Newlin, but stifle any urges to kill you may have. She's on an errand for me."

"What kind of errand," I asked, excited by the murderous tone of my maker's voice.

"The ultimately fatal kind," he said before hanging up.

"Vampires really don't have any goddamned phone manners," Tara intoned under her breath.

I chuckled. "Why would we need any?"

She smirked. "Well—at least—he sounds like he's ready to give that sanctimonious cunt, Sarah Newlin, an ass-whipping, as opposed to just being pussy whipped himself."

I laughed a little louder and then shook my head. "I honestly never thought I'd live to see the night when Eric settled down with just one woman—let alone a human one," I admitted. "And I have always intended to live for-fucking-ever."

Tara smirked. "And growing up, I figured Sookie'd stay single for the rest of her life."

"Why's that?" I asked. "Seems to me like she's been ready to play happy-homemaker with Bill, Herveaux, and Eric."

Tara shrugged. "Her telepathy is a bitch. She can't shield if she's touched, and no guy can prevent himself from thinking like a Neanderthal 24/7."

"Sounds like you sympathize with her," I commented.

"I used to," Tara responded.

"Not anymore?"

"She's why I'm like this," Tara said sourly.

"Like what? Beautiful? Immortal? Badass?" I intoned. "You might be bitter, but Lafayette did you a fucking favor when he begged me to turn you. And then he begged her to beg me," I said, smirking at the memory.

I loved being begged.

"Lafayette? You mean—it wasn't Sookie's idea that I get turned?"

"No. She wanted me to leave them in peace with your dying carcass when I came looking for Eric. It was Lafayette who first asked me to turn you. And Sookie tried talking him out of it. I believe her words were, 'Lafayette, Tara hates vampires,'" I chuckled.

"So she wasn't gonna . . . ?" Tara didn't finish her question.

"Not until Lafayette laid one hell of a guilt trip on her, reminding her—as if she needed it with part of your brain in her hands—that you'd been shot _because of_ _her_. And then shaming her by saying that she was denying you a chance to live if she didn't get me to turn you. It was all very theatrical." I rolled my eyes. "Of course, Sookie _did_ jump on board with the begging after that—promising me _anything_ I wanted in exchange for your shot at an un-death. I didn't hear Lafayette swearing to sell his soul," I added sarcastically, "so if you do decide to get over yourself and forgive one of them, it should probably be her."

Tara sat quietly for a while, absorbing the story I'd told her about her "humble" beginnings.

"She still did it so that _she_ wouldn't feel guilty," she huffed.

I rolled my eyes as I pulled up to the guard station. "Think what you want, but you were pretty checked out at the time. Yes—Sookie felt guilt that you'd sacrificed yourself for her, but she didn't act out of selfishness. She acted out of grief and fear."

"Fear?"

"Given the look in his eyes, if Sookie had let you go, Lafayette would have written her off. And—though she had supernatural suitors swirling around—I got the impression that losing you and Lafayette would have cut her friend count down by half. 'Course—you likely interpret her fear of being alone as selfish, too. But now that you've told me just how hard it was for her to date the redneck humans swarming around your Podunk hometown, I can only hazard to guess that making friends was just as hazardous for her. Even if they did have your naturally sweet disposition," I tagged on snidely.

Tara was silent as the guard called in our "visit" and then waved us through the gates.

"Since when have you started defending Sookie?" she asked with a twinge of bitterness once we'd started moving again.

"Since my maker chose her to be his bonded," I answered.

"What does that mean? Bonded?"

"If a vampire and a human—or, in this case fairy-human—exchange blood simultaneously three times, then magic connects them until one or both of them die. They can feel each other's emotions. Find each other in times of need. It's like," I paused, looking for the right words, "a marriage of the blood. And, as you are learning, blood is everything to a vampire." I shrugged. "Plus, she's given him a miracle by giving him two sons. I might not like her all the time, but even I have to admit that Eric is happier with Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm done with being estranged from him because I'm jealous of her."

"Wow. I can't believe you admitted that you were jealous," Tara said acerbically.

Like me, she could be a brat. Unlike me, she wasn't always "cute" when she was.

" _Were_ bein' the operative word," I responded, mirroring her tone. "But I got over myself."

"You're saying that I should do the same?" she asked, now sounding like a petulant toddler.

I guess that's what she was, but she needed a growth-spurt! And I was happy to help her with that.

"If you can't, then we should say goodbye now so that you can meet the sun," I said seriously, even as I put the car into gear.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"Either you embrace bein' a vampire or not. But if you _do_ , there's no fucking reason in the world why you shouldn't ask your _friend_ to forgive you for being a cunt!"

"Ask _her_ to forgive _me_?" Tara asked angrily before getting out of the car and slamming the door. Hard enough to break it. In two.

Oops—there went that car. I smirked. Nora would be angry.

"That's what I said, sweetheart," I responded as I calmly got out of the car.

"Just why do you think _I_ owe _her_ anything?"

"Other than your life?"

"I didn't want to be a vampire. Don't forget that."

"I remove my command that you not harm yourself," I said sternly. "There. Now you can kill yourself at sun-up if you want."

Tara gasped at the feeling of a maker's command disappearing and then glared at me.

"Maybe I just will!" she sassed.

"I hope not," I said sincerely. "I've come to like you—more than like you. I want you in my nights, Tara Thornton—more as my lover and companion than as my child. Though I will teach you all I know."

She gasped again at my sincerity. But then turned away sullenly.

I was really tired of bullshit.

Suddenly, I felt ashamed—at least as much as I was capable—of the way I'd acted concerning Sookie. I'd lashed out because I didn't realize that Eric could love me _and_ her at the same time. But now that I was a maker, I knew I could love another without my love for Eric diminishing. Yes—Sookie, too, had made mistakes. The chiefest had been choosing the Civil War Cretan over the Viking vagina master—even if it was for the short-term. But I had over a hundred years on Sookie, and Eric had been my teacher—while Sookie had been taught about the Supernatural by Bill fucking Compton! I _should_ have known better than to question my maker about her!

She'd found a spy in Fangtasia.

She'd next found a thief.

She'd survived a serial killer who had killed the person closest to her.

She'd survived a Maenad attack. (A Maenad who'd been responsible for an "attack" on a marvelous pair of pumps too! The bitch!)

She'd successfully negotiated for Lafayette's life and freedom.

She'd helped get Godric out of the Fellowship of the Sun church.

She'd sucked silver from my maker's chest.

She'd stayed with Godric when he'd met the sun—thereby offering comfort to my maker.

She'd marched into Fangtasia to challenge my maker after the Antebellum asshole had been kidnapped.

She'd taken on Weres.

She'd killed a vampiress.

She'd taken in Eric when he'd had no memories—kept him safe.

She'd helped him find Russell.

She'd helped him to rescue me from the confounded Authority when it had been infested by Lilithism.

She'd helped him to kill Bill when he'd become fully actualized as "Billith."

And these paled to the gifts she was now carrying for him.

And—I realized—this was just the list I knew about. There was likely more to the story of Eric and Sookie that I'd never bothered to read.

FUCK! I really could be a brat at times!

Tara and I had been through two security checkpoints as I'd been thinking—and deriding myself.

She'd remained silent.

"Ladies!" Ian said enthusiastically as he greeted us after the second checkpoint.

"Your doing?" I asked, gesturing toward the guard who'd just been handsy with me.

Not that I hadn't enjoyed it.

Ian winked at me. And, for about a second, I contemplated giving men another chance. "One cannot be too careful these days—though I just had them do you as practice. They're warming up for when we get to California," he added, his Irish brogue thick.

"They need more practice," I intoned. "I didn't even get off."

"Perhaps, I could demonstrate on you two? To inspire their training, of course," he grinned at Tara and me.

"Too much baggage," I responded, noting that Tara barely acknowledged the rake. Eric had told me that I could trust Ian. So I did.

"Baggage?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah," I responded, reaching out and curling my fingers over his crotch.

What he had there was nothing to be ashamed of—though it still wasn't quite tempting enough for me.

Almost, but not quite.

He moaned in pleasure.

As I said—I'd been an _excellent_ whore.

"You have too much going on for me—right around here," I said cheekily, even as I drew my hand away.

He groaned in protest. "Well—on behalf of all of those with a penis, may I say that _that_ is a great shame," he smirked.

His cock "leading," he walked toward the elevator, and I followed him—with Tara following me as if she were a mute automaton. Maybe I'd broken her with sincerity.

I'd always known that it wasn't my strongpoint.

Jessica was at the reception desk and greeted Tara and me like long-lost relatives—before eyeing Ian like he was a steak.

And then she eyed his "beef-steak."

I smirked. So _that's_ how things were. Still, Tara was silent until after Jessica had settled us into a room and rustled us up some clothing so that our own could be cleaned.

"Why should I apologize to her?" she asked in a meek voice that told me that she actually _did_ want for me to tell her the truth as I saw it.

I pulled her into my arms—comforting her and feeling strangely comforted myself.

"Because—you've failed to acknowledge that she's been your best friend for years. Even when she had to endure the stray thoughts that I'm sure you couldn't help and didn't really mean. Because she agreed to do whatever I wanted in exchange for giving you a chance to live on. Because she knew that you might hate her—because, unlike your own cousin, she acknowledged that you'd hated vampires before. Because—ever since you've been turned—you have been robbing her of a friend whom she wouldn't be able to 'hear.' Probably the first real friend she's ever had like that. You should apologize because you refused to put your own feelings to the side and think about your friend. You should apologize because you have been at least as selfish as you've accused her of being."

Sometime during my speech, Tara's bloody tears had started falling onto my jacket. Good thing it'd be going to the laundry soon.

"When did you become the relationship guru?"

"I'm not," I responded. "Dear Abbey is."

* * *

 **THE NEXT NIGHT**

"Now I'm gonna teach you an ol' trick my maker once taught me," I drawled.

"Just how in the hell do you talk like a Southerner from the back woods?" Tara asked. "Aren't you—like—from California?"

It was a fair question.

"Before vampires 'came out,' we had to fit in," I explained as I parked the newly borrowed car that Nora had begrudgingly given to us—understandable considering the fact that the one we'd used the night before had a dangling door because of Tara's temper tantrum.

It's not like I planned to give her this car back either. Located about halfway between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, the Vamp Camp was only a thirty minute drive from Authority headquarters, while the Governor's Mansion, which was in Baton Rouge, was more than an hour away.

Thus, I didn't intend to be returning to New Orleans if I could help it. I was tired of having to interact with Nora; plus, the Authority was "picking up stakes" soon. No—if Eric wanted for Tara and me to stay in Baton Rouge, we had a safe house there that I intended to use.

"So you developed a Southern accent to blend in? Why doesn't Eric have one?"

"I've always been better at blending," I smirked. "Plus, Eric sounds like a drunken Texan when he tries to speak Southern."

Tara chuckled as we got out of the vehicle.

"So—uh—how are we gonna go about making contact with this Willa chick?" She asked.

"Like I said—it's time for you to learn a lesson about surveillance. We'll begin with a wide circle of Burrell's estate in order to identify the guards and security systems. Then—once I've determined the best way to approach, you'll hang back a bit."

"Why?" she asked, sounding almost affronted.

"You'll be positioned where you can observe. And if you get even a hint that there's trouble, you'll call me."

"But you said to turn off my phone," the infant challenged.

I rolled my eyes. " _Through our bond_." I shook my head. "I sometimes forget just how 'new' you are."

"Oh," Tara said with realization and then shook her own head at her 'rookie' mistake. Still, she'd never actually "called" me before, so I threw her a bone.

"It takes a while to get out of the human mindset. And don't worry about 'how' to call me. If you sense danger, just _feel_ that emotion and then think of me in relation to the danger. I'll get the message."

I smiled to myself as I thought about the first time Eric had taught me this strategy when we'd been hunting for information _and_ food in a heavily-guarded area. I'd quickly realized that it was a good strategy, and it had saved our asses multiple times.

It didn't take Tara and me long to circle the Governor's Mansion. The structure itself was predictable for such a place. There were gaudy fucking columns all over the fucking place! I believe the architectural style had been termed Greek Revival, but it was too bad they didn't leave it dead.

There was a fence surrounding the mansion, and two guards with dogs walking the perimeter, but they would be easy enough to elude. I'd also seen some surveillance cameras, but there were some gaps in their coverage. There were seven more guards near the front gate, where there was also a guardhouse.

Unexpectedly, near the front gate was a group of about fifty protesters, and more seemed to be arriving every minute. Apparently, the Governor had issued an Executive Order an hour before—one that banned vampires from being in public places at night until TrueBlood production could be reestablished.

A few of the protesters were your typical "fang-haters." But most seemed against Burrell's Executive Order. The protesters added a variable to the situation, but they would also insure that most of the guards were focused upon them.

"What's the plan?" Tara asked, just as I saw a young woman exiting the building through a side entry. As the woman crept through the shadows, I turned to Tara. "Wait here, and 'call' if there's a problem; I think that just might be Miss Burrell sneaking out to join the protesters."

Quickly Tara climbed a tree so that she'd have a better vantage point. Indeed, she was a promising child.

I kept track of the girl and the guards, also taking into account the position of the cameras. I waited for the perfect moment and then quickly leaped over the eight-foot-tall fence and zipped to the woman. I put my hand over her mouth and lifted her into my arms before running back to the fence. Probably in shock at moving so quickly, the girl didn't protest until I had her over the fence and halfway to the car—with Tara following after.

"What? What are you doing?" Willa whimpered even as she started to wiggle. "Put me down."

"In a minute, sweetheart," I intoned. "I'm not plannin' to hurt you," I added hoping that she'd stop struggling. I liked my jacket and didn't want to chance its being ripped.

Thankfully, she did stop wiggling, so it took me no time at all to get her back to the secure location where I'd left the vehicle. Then, I set her onto her feet and took my first good look at Willa Burrell.

She was lovely. Beautiful hair that reminded me of the color of the hot chocolate I'd loved as a child. Beautiful skin that was so flawless and pale that she might have been a vampire. Eyes with what seemed like a hundred shades of brown.

And—in that moment—I felt something that I'd never felt before; still, instinctively, I knew what it was.

It was a 'pull'—a pull to make Willa Burrell my child.

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 **A/N: So, I hope you like this first _INNER-Lude_. On the weeks I post them, I won't have a new chapter of _From the Inside Out_ , I'm afraid (I don't have enough chapters written ahead for that), but I do hope that you enjoy the pieces to the overall story-arc that these INNER-Ludes offer. Chapter 13 of _From the Inside Out_ will be posted next week.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	2. INNER-Lude 2--Andy

**INNER-Lude 2—Andy**

 **Headnote: This is the second outtake for _From the Inside Out_. It is from Andy Bellefleur's POV and should be read **_**after**_ **chapter 15 of** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **; it begins in the afternoon of the day following that chapter.**

* * *

 **ANDY POV**

There ain't nothing in the whole wide world that could have prepared a man for what I was now dealing with! Four babies—uh toddlers—uh little girls—uh preteens!

Four girls that I hadn't even known about until a very pregnant Maurella showed up—near-bursting.

No—scratch that! I had started to think that my first time in the woods with Maurella was just a dream until Judge Clements took Jason and me to that fairy club. When I'd seen her there, I was drawn to her like a moth to flame. And then—to be honest—after that night, I'd just wanted to try to forget about her.

Forget about what I'd done with her.

For some reason, being around her made me lose my ability to think—except with my "little Andy." Needless to say, I'd left the fairy club feeling guilty. By then, I had Holly in my life—at least to a certain extent—and I wanted to make an honest to God try with her. More importantly, I didn't want to do anything to make Holly unhappy.

Enter Maurella into my life a third time.

Extremely pregnant!

The way she'd chugged that salt!

I hadn't been equipped to be a daddy four times over—to four _girls_ , no less!

I mean—boys could be taught hunting and fishing! I didn't have the foggiest idea what to teach little girls—except to _never_ , _ever_ date boys. Never!

I was just thankful to have Arlene around to help a bit. And Holly.

God bless her—or, uh, her goddess bless her—for not hitting me in the face and turning her back on me. I wouldn't have blamed her.

I shook my head as I thought about Holly and me. Talk about bad timing! I'd gotten with Maurella when I'd thought that Holly and I wouldn't be happening! But, then, being with Maurella had made me want Holly even more! And it had given me the confidence to go after her in earnest.

Sure—Holly was a little odd. She talked about goddesses; she rambled on about herbs and salt circles and all kinds of witchy things. But all that talk had just made me like her more. She was herself—unique! And she didn't apologize to anyone for it. Seeing someone so damned comfortable with herself had made me want to be a better man!

And it wasn't as if weirder stuff than Holly's witchery didn't thrive in Bon Temps! Strange, supernatural things were like a shit hill on a cattle farm in Bon Temps.

I still remember that she-devil who desecrated the Stackhouse's property! She'd spun around in Adele Stackhouse's weddin' dress like the bride of Frankenstein. Yep—thinking about how that wild woman had made some kind of meat tree definitely made the bile rise in my throat. And that about Maryann herself? Well, she'd made everyone's eyes go black! Including my own! And don't even get me started on my memory of seeing Mike Spencer naked. I know I ain't a ten or anything, but I don't go flaunting my body around public either! And I certainly don't do the Chicken Dance while naked!

I sighed as I parked in Sookie's driveway. I suppose I didn't have too much room to talk—not really. Holly's kids had made sure that my assets—emphasis on the "ass"—were posted on Facebook for all to see.

I puffed up a bit as I got out of the car. At least my ass had gotten 67 "likes!" But the 4 "pokes" had been a little too much. I mean—I get that Lafayette was just kiddin' and all—but he's been having a little too much fun teasing me about "poking" my ass. I shuddered.

Anyway—despite that little hiccup with Holly's kids posting pictures of my ass—she and I had been doin' real good together for a while. And, though I knew it was quick, I'd already started thinking about things like moving in together or even getting her an engagement ring.

But then the salt-swiggin' fairy had swept back into my life. And—by the end of the night—she'd had four babies! And— _obviously_ —fairy women felt that their job was over once they—uh—went through labor.

Not that it seemed like "labor" to me. In fact, it sort of crushed my ego a little when I realized that Maurella was having a bigger orgasm from birthing the kids than she'd had from me putting them into her.

I pulled at my collar a little. Why'd they have to make the damned things so tight?

I checked my watch. Even though it was overcast enough to look almost like dusk, it was almost 3:00 p.m., and my official shift would be starting at 5:00 p.m. Hopefully by then, I'd have some help for my girls.

It'd been a little rainy for the last several days, so I made sure to wipe my boots carefully as I rang Sookie's doorbell. Miss Adele might not be alive anymore, but I still thought of her as I wiped them a second time. She sure could light a boy up for bringing mud into her house!

I rubbed the back of my neck in memory.

After about a minute, I rang the doorbell again and knocked for good measure. Sookie's car was where it usually was when she was home and there was even another car there too, some sort of expensive-looking foreign sedan. Knowing Sook, it was a vampire's.

I heard a few hurried steps followed by a yelled-out, "Can you give me five minutes Andy?"

I frowned and looked around. Her voice made it sound as if she were speaking from her stairs, and I knew that she hadn't looked out the windows in the living room to see that I was the one there. 'Course I knew how she'd known it was me.

That thing she could do with her head.

That thing my girls could do too!

"Sure thing, Sookie. I'll just wait on the porch!" I yelled out as I moved to sit on the porch swing. I suppose I could have just "thought" it at her.

I noticed that the swing didn't creek like it used to and then took the time to notice all the updates to the house. I knew that they'd been done between the time Jason sold Sookie's house and the time she got back from wherever she'd been for a year, but I didn't know more than that. In fact, I wondered how she could still be living there—if truth be told. Was she renting?

I shrugged. I'd always thought that Sookie was a strange creature and—to my shame—I'd been scared enough of her that I'd had some unkind things to say about her at times. Because of this, I was nervous to talk to her, but I honestly didn't know what else to do at the moment.

Sookie opened the door not five minutes later. Her eyes seemed a little weary, but she had a smile on her face.

AND a noticeable baby bump!

"What's that?" I asked, though I knew it was a stupid question as soon as it left my lips.

Her smile didn't drop. It widened. "My boys!" she enthused. "Come on in. I started some coffee, and I made banana bread yesterday."

Involuntarily, my stomach growled. "Adele's recipe?" I asked.

"Of course! With pecans too!"

I followed my stomach into the kitchen. For Miss Adele's banana bread, I would have followed a lot longer. With each step I took, I appreciated the renovations to the inside of the house more and more.

"Your Gran woulda been real proud of how the house looks," I said, after thanking Sookie for a cup of coffee and a large slice of banana bread. I took the chair she offered me and tucked in to the treat.

She sighed. "I think she would be," she responded as she joined me with her own coffee and bread. "But I can't take credit for the changes." She looked a little sad for a moment, but also extremely grateful.

"I know it ain't none of my business, but who did all the work on the house?"

"Eric," she responded.

"That—uh—big blond vamp?"

"Yep. That's him," she returned even as she spooned five and then six teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. I loved my sweets, but that was taking things a little far. Then she spooned sugar onto her banana bread.

I shrugged. "Can I have that sugar after you're done with it?" I asked. "I like a bit in my coffee these days."

She chuckled and got up. "Oh—that's not sugar." She quickly grabbed a sugar dish from the counter and brought it to me.

"Salt!" I exclaimed with realization.

She nodded. "I know it's weird, but I want it in everything—uh—because of the pregnancy."

The salt.

The sudden pregnancy—where there hadn't been sign of it before.

My mind's wheels clicked and locked.

"You're a fairy!"

She sighed and nodded. "Part. You know about fairies? Jason tell you?" she asked, before shoveling in a bite.

I pulled at my collar and then just gave up and opened the first button of my shirt and loosened my tie.

"I—uh—met a fairy. That's actually why I'm here. I didn't know you were one, but I thought you could help me."

"Oh?" she asked as she poured more salt onto her banana bread.

"Actually, Maurella—that's the name of the fairy—and I had a short—uh—relationship."

"But aren't you with Holly?" she asked.

"Yes!" I said quickly. "Least I hope she still wants that. But Maurella—um—well I—uh—swore to protect her—swore on her 'light'—or something like that. And the next thing I know she showed up . . . ."

Sookie interrupted. "She's pregnant! I met her at the fairy club."

"Uh, yeah. The fairy club," I said. "She's already had the kids though."

"Kids?" Sookie asked.

"Four girls. And she left them with me and took off. I've tried goin' to the field where that club is, but no one's answering," I shared. "And that's why I need your help. You see—they're like you."

She tilted her head. "How?"

"They can read thoughts," I answered. "And they're havin' problems stayin' out of heads. Two of 'em are gettin' headaches from it. I figured that—since you can read minds too—you could give them some advice. You know—pointers and such. And—now that I know you're fairy too—well, I really think you could help. _If_ you will."

She bit her lip as if about to cry.

Oh, God! Please! I didn't want to deal with pregnancy hormones or more female emotions!

"I know I ain't always been as kind as I shoulda been," I started before she could speak. "I remember how—right after I became a cop—you 'thought' to me once that I just had to ask if I ever wanted to use your special kind of 'help.'"

"I made the same offer to Bud," she sighed. "He never wanted my help either," she added sadly.

"Well, he did turn out to be a sick motherfucker," I said trying to chuckle a little. "But—uh—I ain't got no good excuse." I sighed. "Listen, you and me ain't never been friends, but I could use your help. My girls could use your help."

She reached out her hand and covered my own. "Of course, I'll do what I can. And it might help for when my own boys are born."

"They gonna grow fast too?" I asked.

Her lip quivered again.

Shit! That's why she'd been upset!

My girls' growing so quickly had freaked me out too, but I hadn't thought about why I should be sad about what I was missing. I frowned.

"Yes. They're gonna grow fast," she whispered.

"You said boys earlier," I tried to change the topic a little.

"Two," she smiled a little. "How old are yours?"

"A little more than four days," I answered.

"And?" she asked, holding her breath.

In turn, I took a long breath. "The first day, they were like newborns. The second, they were toddlers. The third, they looked like," I paused, "they were seven or eight? Hard for me to tell—you know? Today, I'd say eleven or twelve."

"And yours are _half_ -Fae," she mused and then looked at me with concern. "You know to keep them away from vampires—right?"

I frowned. "Maurella mentioned that there were things I needed to protect her from in the night. Was she talkin' about vamps?"

Sookie nodded. "Yeah. At least to a certain extent. Vampires are attracted to fairies because our blood tastes good to them. I'm only an eighth fairy, and I still smell sweet to them, though they can control themselves around me."

"But my girls . . . ," I started fearfully.

"Can be kept indoors at night. And—uh—maybe they have powers they can use to protect themselves."

"Powers?" I asked.

She reached out her hand and somehow produced a ball of light on her palm. "This can be used as a weapon."

"Wow!" I said. "Can you teach my girls to do that?"

She shrugged. "I can try. And I know someone else who could help even more—my cousin, Claude."

"Thank you," I said sincerely and then looked at her hand. "Could you do that all your life?"

"Nope. For me, it came on when I needed to fight off the Maenad. But that was only after I had Eric's blood. I think having it might have brought on my power, but I'm not sure, and I'm not as much fairy as your girls, so they might get it earlier than I did."

"Hope so," I mused.

Sookie smiled at me. "Well—let's get going. My cousin Claude is at the fairy club, and I think he could give us _both_ some advice. Last time I saw him I was still shocked about being pregnant by a vampire! So I didn't think to ask him anything about how fast the kids would grow or when they'd stop growing like that."

"Wait. A vampire is their daddy?" I asked with surprise. "I thought they couldn't—um—do that."

She giggled. "Usually not. But Eric," she paused, " _accepted_ my light."

"Ah," I nodded with understanding. "Say no more. I get it."

"Let me just put on some warmer clothes and then we can go to the fairy club."

I nodded and accepted another piece of banana bread and cup of coffee. When she returned, she was muttered about the fact that nothing fit anymore. But she had found something to wear—a pair of sweats that had probably belonged to Jason once upon a time, a large T-shirt, and a flannel quilted jacket that was clearly too big for her in every way except when it came to her belly.

All the way to my car, she continued to mutter questions about why her maternity clothes hadn't arrived. I wasn't about to risk saying the wrong thing—which I figured I would if I tried to make her feel better. Smartly, I kept my mouth shut.

I'd learned in my line of work that pregnant women were the last people in the world that I was willing to piss off. Their moods swung like a baseball bat, and I'd been hit one too many times.

We were mostly quiet on the short drive to the "fairy field"—as I called it in my head. Her hand lying over her belly, Sookie was likely thinking about her upcoming motherhood.

I was just grateful that she was helping me at all—given the fact that I'd not been kind to her at certain times in the past. I resolved to change my attitude and my behavior—and even see if she'd still be willing to use her "gift" to help with police investigations once in a while. It was amazing how fast being the daddy of four telepathic girls had given me an attitude adjustment regarding Sookie.

Of course, the fact that I'd needed one in the first place was a signal that I was just as much of an asshole when it came to Sookie as most others in town.

In truth, despite her "crazy" smile and her habit of looking at people like she "knew" their very souls, she was genuinely kind-natured, like Miss Adele. And, clearly, she was discreet. The many secrets that had made their way into her head over the years had stayed within her. Heck—I know that I had the occasional strange or downright un-Christian thought. I imagined that everyone did. In fact, even the week before, I'd found myself wondering how many times Jason Stackhouse must have been dropped onto his head as a baby. And—let's face it—Jason's my best friend! Sookie had been around when I'd had that thought, but she'd simply met it with the same "crazy" smile with which she met everything.

Now that I thought about it, I realized that Sookie's odd smile was likely the direct result of whatever thoughts she was hearing at any given time. I could only imagine the nastiness in some people's heads—and the judgment and fear in others. Indeed, I was guilty of that, too.

I thought about my girls and of the inevitability of their being harmed by people's thoughts.

I think I might have growled out loud, given the fact that Sookie looked at me funny.

"You okay?" she asked, her concern clear. After everything, it was a wonder that she continued to be so caring.

"Yeah. Sure," I responded.

She looked skeptical, but turned her focus away from me.

"Andy!" she yelled. "Stop!"

Having been startled, it took me a moment to hit the brakes—though I didn't slam on them. Pregnant woman in the car and all! In fact, Sookie was probably feeling ill. Pregnant women did that—right? In the morning? And—though it wasn't the morning for most people, given that it was after 3:00 p.m.—Sookie spent time with vamps, and it probably was morning for her.

"You okay?" I asked her before following her pointed finger to the cause of her outburst.

I had to squint to see it, but there seemed to be a body about forty feet from the road. The lump was near the tree line and in tall grass, so people would have needed to be looking closely to see it. Whether he or she was dead or just hurt—I didn't have a clue.

I wondered how Sookie had seen the body, given that we'd been going pretty fast.

She answered my unspoken question. "I felt a weird 'tap,'" she said, pointed to her head.

I grabbed the radio in the car. "Kenya," I said as I pushed the button to call the station.

"Hey, Andy. I didn't know you were on duty yet."

"I'm not," I said, "but I was driving down Old Winnfield Road. Sookie's with me, and she spotted a body on the side of the road. We don't know its condition yet, but I need you to send Kevin and an ambulance right away."

"Sure thing, Andy," Kenya said.

"Stay here," I ordered Sookie, though her door was already opening as I opened mine.

Stubborn girl.

"Alright, then stay behind me," I amended gruffly even as I unsnapped the strap that secured my gun into its side holster. Thankfully, Sookie nodded in compliance and fell into step several feet behind me.

"You—uh—hear anyone?" I asked, even as I was looking around the area.

"Just you and him," she said. "But I think he's unconscious."

"Him?" I asked since I wasn't close enough to determine gender yet.

"Yeah."

If he was unconscious, I wondered how she knew his gender. Did men and women "sound" different to her even when they weren't thinking something specific? What about Lafayette? I mean—I liked the man. Don't get me wrong. But he was a little—uh—flamboyant.

Sookie gasped from behind me.

"He 'tap' again?"

"Yeah," she responded. "Maybe the tapping is him trying to wake up? He also 'feels' unique to me."

"What do you mean—unique?" I asked.

"Like a fairy, but not," she said.

"Maybe he's part?" I speculated. "Like you and my girls?"

By this time we'd reached the man. He was lying on his back. Lucky for him, the cloud cover was dense; otherwise, he would have baked in the sun like a vampire! Well—maybe not quite that bad.

I quickly bent down to check his vitals and noticed quite a bit of bruising on his face. And then I noticed the bite marks; they looked like vampire to me. "Sookie?" I asked. "Look at these?"

She came closer and looked over my shoulder.

"Vampire?" I asked.

"Looks like it," she said soberly.

The man groaned and stirred before opening his eyes. He closed them again quickly as if the gray sky were the brightest of lights. And then he moved his hand gingerly to his neck, cringing in pain as he touched the bite.

"There's an ambulance on the way," I said as his eyes opened again, this time more focused than before.

"Where am I?" he asked in a scratching voice.

"Near Bon Temps, Louisiana," I responded as his eyes moved to take in Sookie.

Immediately, he focused on her intently. I guess I couldn't blame him there. Her pretty face was much nicer than my ugly mug. Still, his gaze was a little too invasive—too interested—in my opinion.

"What's your name?" I asked, trying to draw his attention back to me.

"Ben," he said, still looking at Sookie. "Ben Flynn." He smiled at her, seeming to have regained some of his energy. "You," he said, "you saved me."

"Huh?" Sookie asked.

"I felt your brain," Ben sighed. "Everything was dark, but then I recognized the spark of your light as it went by. Thank you for stopping. Focusing on your mind—it helped me to wake up." He shivered. "The vampire left me near dawn, but said he was coming back at nightfall. I don't know if I would have been able to wake up on my own by then."

"You're a telepath too?" Sookie asked.

"Yes—and very enticing to vampires," he added with a cringe, "just as I imagine you are."

"Yeah," Sookie admitted from behind me.

"I usually stay inside a human-owned home at night, but I was helping a friend in Shreveport. And I was found by a vampire."

"And he just left you here?" I asked. I'll admit it. I was skeptical. There was something in Ben Flynn's eyes that didn't seem quite right. And his gaze at Sookie was almost possessive; it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Maybe that was my "parental" instinct popping through though. After all, I'd been practicing it enough during the last week.

But this guy's eyes were not to be trusted. I just knew it! Hell—the two eyes weren't even quite the same color.

Ben nodded and answered my question, breaking my gaze from his one blue and one greenish eye. "Yes. The vampire took enough blood to incapacitate me. I think he was toying with me by leaving me here."

I moved slightly. Though I could not block his eyes from Sookie's, I felt better knowing that my body was positioned more between them.

For her part, Sookie seemed to be curious about the man. I suppose she didn't meet many telepaths. "Do you know who did this to you?"

"I could describe him," Ben said, "but I don't know his name."

He was trying to sit up again. That's when he looked at me and smiled a little. "I am part fairy. We heal faster, and now that Sookie is here, her spark is feeding my own."

"How do you know her name?" I asked.

"I told him, Andy," Sookie said, putting her hand on my shoulder and squeezing a little. "Ben really is like me, and we were communicating telepathically for a minute. Sorry."

"Hmm," I sounded. Maybe that's why he'd been looking at her like he had. Still—I wasn't ready to trust all he said. "So—uh—can you describe the vamp—I mean vampire—who did this?"

Sookie squeezed my shoulder again, clearly pleased that I'd corrected my slight slur.

"He is tall—very tall. Maybe 6 feet, five inches?" he began. "And he's blond. I think his accent is slightly Scandinavian. And he's old. I know that much for sure. My light had little effect on him."

Sookie squeezed yet again, but this time, it wasn't out of gratitude or support. I think it was out of some kind of warning.

"When did you say you were attacked?" I asked.

"Last night—around 10:00 p.m.," he returned. "I think I was drugged. I didn't wake up till hours later, and I was here. And then the vampire started biting."

Just then, we heard the ambulance sirens. I was glad. Ben was really beginning to creep me out. Though the part-fairy protested, I made sure that he understood that it was standard procedure that he be taken to the hospital for a check-up and a blood transfusion if needed. However, by the time the ambulance was ready to take off, he was well enough to walk on his own.

Due to using Sookie's light thing—I guess. I hope he—at least—fucking asked first!

Ben looked over his shoulder longingly as he walked with the paramedics toward the ambulance.

"It was lovely meeting you Sookie Stackhouse. I hope I will see you again."

"That'd be great!" Sookie said from next to me. I noticed that her "crazy" smile was in place and wondered what that could mean.

I didn't need to wonder for long. As soon as I'd explained the details of the situation to Kevin, who showed up right as the ambulance was pulling away, I ushered Sookie back to my car.

"Sookie, I don't think you should trust that guy," I said gruffly.

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "His head _seemed_ very open to me, and he _seemed_ honest, but my gut is literally telling me to never see him again! That he's hiding something behind that victim façade," she added.

Good for her gut.

"Andy," she started. "I'm sorry, but would it be okay if I called Claude and we came over to your house later—maybe around 11:00 p.m. with Eric? I—uh—don't want Eric to be alone in the house right now, and, as soon as the sun sets, I want to tell him that someone's trying to accuse him of attacking them."

"You don't know of any other old tall blond vampires with a slight accent either, do you?" I asked with a sigh.

"Nope. But I _do_ know where Eric was every second of last night," she informed sincerely. "And we were even with Jason part of the night. If Ben was attacked by a vampire, it wasn't Eric." I believed her, so I told her so.

"That's good enough for me," I said.

She smiled at me and patted my hand. "I'm sure Eric will answer any questions you might have for him later. Meanwhile, if he does have a doppelganger out there attacking part-fairies, I'm sure he'll find him. And—if Ben is trying to frame Eric for any wrongdoing—I intend to find out why."

She growled.

I ignored it. Pregnant lady and all.

"Eric will be okay?" I asked. "Coming to the house—being around my girls?"

"You'll un-invite him if he isn't," she said quickly. "But Eric is _mine_. And he hasn't been attracted to other fairies since I _claimed_ him."

She sounded downright scary and possessive. So I did what I had to do. I agreed with her.

"Sure thing, Sookie. We'll be ready for your visit at 11:00 p.m."

When I dropped her off, she literally ran into her house—likely to check on her vamp. I mean, "vampire."

As for myself? I had to get to the station to fill out the paperwork and then check on the status of Ben Flynn. I also planned to do an extensive background check on him. Clearly, both a telepath's instincts and my own gut were telling us that the part-fairy was "off." And I—for one—didn't like the thought of a questionable fairy sniffing around town when my own part-fairies daughters had just arrived.

I know I growled aloud at that thought—but I didn't care!

It was a father's prerogative—even a new one's!

At the end of Hummingbird Lane, I made a right turn rather than a left one. Before I went to the station to learn more about Ben Flynn, I had just enough time to check on my girls, and that's just what I planned to do!

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this** _ **INNER-Lude**_ **! I have to say that during the final season, Andy was one of my favorite characters. And as soon as I decided to write these** _ **INNER-Ludes**_ **I knew I wanted to do one with Andy. It made sense since he had 4 fairy kids! That being said, it was challenging writing from his POV b/c it's the first time I've attempted it. I hope I did him some justice. And, of course, another main narrative push in this chapter was to introduce Ben/Warlow. What do you think of him so far?**

 **We'll have more of** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **and be back w/ Eric's POV next week.**

 **Until then,**

 **Kat**


	3. INNER-Lude 3--Warlow

**INNER-Lude 3—Warlow**

* * *

 **Headnote: This is the third outtake for** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **. It is from Warlow's POV and should be read** _ **after**_ **chapter 20 of** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **; it begins with flashbacks, tracing Warlow's involvement with the Stackhouse family. The show deals with the story of Sookie's ancestry in very odd ways. John William Stackhouse—the signer of the contract giving Sookie to Warlow—was apparently Niall's son, but—according to the show—the contract was signed in 1702. Now, I know that fairies live for a long time, but—if Sookie is 1/8 fairy (as she is in the books)—then John cannot be her grandfather because we know that "Earl" was (unless Earl was also John? But that's not logical). So we don't know who "John William" was to Earl. We DO know there was at least a Jonas in between John William and Earl (because it is mentioned that he was the one to build the Stackhouse homestead). Plus, no mention is made of Stackhouses living unreasonably long lives. Thinking about all this just reminds me of how inconsistent the show could be. So if John was at least 2 generations removed from Earl, which seems unreasonably few (given the 1702 date), then Sookie is only 1/32 fairy—which seems too far removed to me. Anyway, I've decided to alter some things about the show's narrative in order to make the story make slightly more sense—according to "Kat logic." I'm having John William Stackhouse be born in the 1840s for a couple of reasons (one being a little "inside joke" at Bill's expense). Also, I'm showing that Warlow was involved in the Stackhouses' lives (and loves) from early on, making sure that the fairy blood wasn't diluted too much. Thus, Sookie IS still 1/8 fairy in the show, but not all of her fairy blood is from Niall. I also HATED the idea that Sookie's parents had tried to kill her, which was shoved down our throats (out of left field) in Season 6. So I am ignoring that idiocy. To me, it was a cheap way to prop up Warlow so that Sookie wouldn't look like a complete moron for having sex with him, an act that seemed utterly ridiculous (again out of left field), by the way. (I blame poor writing in Season 6, which could have been really interesting, given the Vamp Camp possibilities. But In S6, the writers had clearly decided that Eric and Sookie would be kept apart at all costs, and that caused the show to seem fragmented and ruptured and random to me.) Anyway, I hope that you will indulge me as I change some show facts and adapt others in the "Kat logic" way. ;)**

* * *

 **WARLOW POV**

 ** _Flashback: 1845, Northern Louisiana_**

I watched Niall as he watched the beautiful young woman wipe her brow as she worked in a lovely garden of roses. The woman's much older husband had chastised her for doing the "slaves' work" before he'd ridden out to the cotton field on the estate to make sure "his" people weren't slacking again.

I scoffed. Of all the human institutions I'd seen throughout my very long life, slavery was the worst. Oh—I knew that fairies were guilty of it too; that was one of the reasons why my family had come to the human realm when Niall's grandfather, Cian, had led us from Faerie. Braden had already been using the Earth Fae as his slaves by then—simply because the Earth Fae's magic was slightly less powerful than others', and they could be exploited.

I shook my head. Power was such an odd commodity. The white slave owners of the Southern United States maintained power by instilling fear into the larger black population. They used the threat of guns and whips to make those who would have questioned their authority stay in line. And they used the concept of tradition too. Many of the "workers" on the Stackhouse plantation had been born into slavery—conditioned to believe that they were somehow lesser because of the color of their skin.

Similar things had been used against the Earth Fae too: the threat of stronger magic by the Water Fae and the "idea" that they "should" be slaves had kept most of them from rebelling in the land that I'd been born in.

I scoffed again, though quietly—of course. And then I watched as Niall carefully approached the young woman as soon as the coast was clear.

Niall had been hunting me for many, _many_ years. But he had lost track of me for the time being. Of course, he had no idea that I was the hunter on this particular occasion. In fact, I'd been keeping an eye on him for months, but always during the daytime—when he would not suspect me of being there.

I smiled to myself. Niall saw me as his arch enemy. But I'd come to see him as my salvation. And I wondered if the pretty woman he called Kate would be the vessel. Oh—Niall had had Fae children, but I had become certain that a part human mate would be best.

She'd be more pliant—easier to control. And my glamour might even work on her. On the other hand, I would likely always have problems in dealing with a trained fairy.

I tilted my head so that I could get a better look at Niall and his current paramour as they scurried into a secluded part of the garden. The woman he called Kate was beautiful—both on the inside and out. Unlike the others on the property, she treated everyone—whites and blacks—with equal kindness and respect, not looking down upon the people who labored for nothing beyond the bad treatment of her in-laws.

How Kate had come to be married to "Master Owen Stackhouse" was a story she'd told Niall during one of their first meetings. Kate's father had owed Stackhouse a large debt, and Owen could very well have taken away all that the man had. However, Stackhouse had taken a liking to Kate, and he'd forgiven the debt in exchange for her hand in marriage. The obedient daughter had done as her father had bid, though I'd overheard gossip from some of the slaves that the "master" was now becoming impatient for children. Of course, I was quite aware that Stackhouse couldn't father children at the moment. I'd been responsible for the spell that prohibited his seed from taking root inside of a woman.

I didn't want Niall's seed to have competition, after all.

Niall had certainly not been a monk throughout the years—despite his quest to hunt me down. Indeed, since I'd begun taking advantage of opportunities to turn the tables on him by becoming his occasional hunter a few centuries before, I'd known him to have several human lovers; he'd even produced two children with one of them, but the mother had died in childbirth. So Niall had taken his twin sons to Faerie—where he had trained them to master their fairy powers.

I was hopeful that—this time—Niall's mistress might bear his child and live through the process. I didn't see Niall taking a child from its mother, especially not from a human he was so obviously fond of. Plus, I intended to distract Niall away from the young woman if she did conceive.

I stopped watching the couple when the words between them stopped and the intercourse began. Instead, I kept watch over the area so that the two wouldn't be hindered.

Of course, I inhibited my own scent, a power that had carried over with me from my fairy life, though I was unable to maintain the gift for longer than a few hours at a time. Still—it would be enough time to guard my "enemy" and then check on his beloved. Thousands of years of life had made my own sense of smell so keen that I knew I would be able to determine whether Niall had impregnated Kate long before the fairy could.

And—if she was pregnant this time—I would place myself into Claudine's path. Niall's granddaughter, Claudine, had—on occasion—attempted to help Niall hunt me. I knew that, if I let her spot me, Niall would come for me immediately, leaving his lovely Kate all alone.

I noticed the sound of someone approaching well before the individual was upon my position. I rolled my eyes as I recognized the individual—a ten-year-old peeping Tom who was always trying to spy on the lovely Kate.

"William Compton," I grinned as I zipped in front of the boy. I'd thought about draining him before. But a missing boy might draw unwanted attention. Instead, I simply glamoured him and had a small meal while I waited for Niall to finish with his Kate.

* * *

 _ **1875, Northern Louisiana**_

I watched the sad domestic scene from a nearby tree branch. I knew that I would soon be able to strike—to make the deal that would one day gain me my bride.

"You are special," Kate Stackhouse said weakly to her son, John.

In truth, I was well aware that John already knew of his "uniqueness." I'd made sure of it.

It wasn't that John was arrogant. No—the thirty-year-old man was humble. He spent most of his time simply trying to raise enough crops to keep his family nourished and their home from being collected by corrupt bankers as carpetbaggers and sharecroppers moved his world around.

I knew enough about Niall's son to know that he'd lost three uncles during the Civil War, and his bastard of a "father"—Owen—had sent him off to fight when he was only fifteen years old. But John had lived through almost three years of war, while his "father" had died of pneumonia two years before John had returned home.

Now, more than ten years later, John was clearly proud that he'd been able to hold onto the family property. Many of the once-slaves had stayed on following Owen's death—first to help look after the benevolent Kate and then because John had given them parcels of Stackhouse land to own for themselves. Now—they all worked the land together. And, though Owen was likely spinning daily in his grave, John obviously didn't care.

I couldn't blame him.

As far as I had been able to tell during my sporadic and secret visits, John had never received much beyond cruelty from the old bastard—and, worse, his mother had been treated with coldness. It was safe to say that John Stackhouse hated his father.

Not that Owen Stackhouse was truly John's father.

Niall was—though the fairy had no idea of his son's existence.

Thanks to me.

I smiled with satisfaction.

Five years before, John had met a woman—the woman who was to become his wife. John had met the beautiful Ethaline at a church social. She had been a nanny in the Bellefleur family.

John had fallen in love with her immediately.

Irrevocably.

Of course, it had been I who had arranged for Ethaline to have work in the area. She was an unwitting accomplice to me.

After I was certain that Niall had impregnated young Kate thirty years before, I'd drawn out Niall. The fairy had almost gotten the best of me a time or two since then, but—eventually—I'd maneuvered him into a trap, and now he was stuck in the Fae realm.

I smiled to myself as I looked at the death-bed scene through the window. Indeed, my spell upon Niall had been inspired. Given the current time differentials between the fairy world and the human one, I chastised myself for not thinking of the scheme centuries before. Niall would be able to get himself out of Faerie within a "day," but—by then—it would be a century from now. Maybe a bit more.

Well too late for Niall to find and train his half-fairy son.

The quarter fairy, Ethaline, reached out for her husband's hand. I smirked. She truly had no idea of her part in my larger plan. I'd met Ethaline in New Orleans, struggling to understand or control the telepathy that had nearly driven her to insanity. I had "helped" her with it. And then I had helped her gain employment.

Employment near the residence of John Stackhouse.

John had not "suffered" from telepathy, but he had likely always "felt" different. Sensing the same in Ethaline, John had been easily enamored. And, acting on my counsel as her guardian, Ethaline had told John of her own fairy nature—and his own—before they'd wed.

Ethaline had also taught John to bring forth a pale white light from his hands, and—with her own magic—she had helped the land to be fertile. However, the fertility hadn't extended to Ethaline herself.

The couple had tried for years to have children, but they'd failed.

Of course, they had no idea that Ethaline's New Orleans "benefactor"—me—had everything to do with the infertility.

I watched as John tensed as his mother gasped out a shaky breath. The doctors didn't know what disease was slowly taking her life, but Kate had become weaker and weaker over the last year. In my years, I'd seen similar cases, and I could smell the death about her.

I knew it wouldn't be long before she was gone.

Ethaline had ahold of one of Kate's hands, and John had ahold of the other.

The sight was almost touching to me.

Out of respect for his beloved nurturer, John had—thanks to "Ethaline's" influence (and mine)—never asked his mother about _how_ he was a fairy, but it seemed in that moment as if Kate could read his mind. I found that almost funny.

"I loved your _real_ father, though our time with each other was too short," Kate choked out. "His name was Niall Brigant."

John clearly didn't know that name; however, Ethaline did. No wonder—since I'd told her a little of him.

"He is a powerful fairy," Ethaline told her husband. "A full-blooded Sky Fae—though he is known to be," she paused, "eccentric."

That was one word for it.

"He was beautiful—like you," Kate smiled at her son, even as she sank into the delirium of near death. "I hated him for many years for disappearing without a word, but I have finally realized that his greatest gift to me has been you."

She smiled at him.

"Mother," John wept, even as she took her last breath.

I smiled to myself. It was time.

* * *

 **TWO DAYS LATER**

The figure of John William Stackhouse was a stark one as I approached him. He was weeping openly over the newly turned earth covering the wooden box that held his dead mother.

Yes—my timing was perfect.

Ethaline had no idea why I was truly visiting; however, she had accepted without question that I'd traveled north from New Orleans to be with her and her husband during their time of grief.

John would soon learn of a different reason for my being there.

"Your wife worries for you," I said by way of greeting the husband of my "ward."

"I know," John returned, looking up at me to smile a little. He was a Halfling, so to resist draining him dry, I had to concentrate on not inhaling his sweet scent. But—having honed my discipline over time—I refrained from enjoying the nectar in the air.

"I am here to offer you a consolation in your time of grief," I told the Halfling.

"There can be no consolation," John sniffled.

"Would a child not help to quell your grief?" I asked.

"A child?" John gasped, looking up at me from his kneeling position.

I nodded. "Yes. My beloved ward has told me that you two have tried for many years to have a child, and I have been working to find a way to help you do so."

John stood up. "Have you found anything? My mother longed to have grandchildren," he conveyed, as more tears dripped from his eyes, "and Ethaline and I have longed for that too."

I let out a long, deliberate sigh so that I would seem more human. "I have learned that your trouble is within Ethaline herself."

"Within her?" John asked, even as he closed his eyes.

"Yes. It is a problem shared by many fairy women. Some simply do not have the magic needed to produce a child."

His eyes squeezed shut even further. "It is alright," he said determinedly. "Ethaline is my beloved, and if we are met not to have children, so be it."

"Magic can be supplied to help in such cases," I said seductively.

"Magic?" he asked, his eyes popping open.

I nodded. "Yes. If you are willing to pay the price."

"Price?"

I sighed as if saddened. "There is always a price for great magic, but I believe that I can mitigate that price."

He looked at me in confusion.

"There is a witch in New Orleans who has a potion that will ensure that Ethaline can conceive a child."

"Witch?" John asked with trepidation.

I nodded. "She requires my own blood for the transaction," I stated. "And that is blood that I will willingly give for Ethaline and for you. But I . . . ." I stopped midsentence and looked down.

"But what?" John asked.

"Has Ethaline told you that my own lifespan will be _very_ long?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. She said that ours would be long too—unless we died of accidents."

"That is true," I said. Of course, I didn't add that accidents could be easily arranged.

"But I am practically immortal," I explained.

"Because you are a full-blooded fairy?" John asked.

"Yes," I misled him. "And I am saddened that I will be bereft after you and Ethaline are gone."

"But we may now have a child. Children!" he said excitedly.

"Yes," I nodded. "You will. And I would ask for one of your descendant's hands in marriage."

"What?" he asked.

I smiled softly, as if I were asking for only a little thing. "I have looked at you and my ward, Ethaline—the love you so clearly share—for years now. And I want that kind of thing too." I paused for a moment. "A family for a family. That is all I ask for."

"But . . . ."

I interrupted him before his could protest. "I would never ask for such a thing; however, I have a friend who has the gift of foresight," I lied.

"Foresight?" he asked.

"Yes. A rare fairy gift that allows one of our kind to see into the future," I lied again.

"Truly?"

"Yes. She has foreseen that your first Fae-bearing child and I will marry one day—as long as you ensure that today."

"Ensure it?"

I smiled at him. "A contract," I relayed, pulling a roll of parchment from my jacket. "One day—when a female child able to bear Fae children is born from your line—I ask only that I have the honor of being her mate. And—for this—I will undergo the _very_ painful process of giving the witch a _great_ deal of my blood so that Ethaline and you can have a son."

"A son?" he asked, looking at me wide-eyed.

"Yes. The seer has foreseen that you and my ward will have a healthy boy-child."

Of course, I was lying. That they had a boy was a fifty-fifty chance, I supposed. But not even the magic I'd learned to wield over fertility could ensure a boy over a girl. However, if John felt somehow "disconnected" from the girl-child I wanted him to give me now, then that would only help my cause. And—once I had his signature—none of the lies I'd told would matter anyway.

"A son," he smiled.

"Indeed," I grinned back. "It will take me many years to recover from the witch's blood-taking," I lied. "But that is fine. I am patient. The happiness that the seer has told me of will be worth it."

We were silent for a few minutes as he digested what I'd told him.

"Would you help Ethaline and me if I didn't promise you the girl?" John finally asked.

I closed my eyes as if agonizing over a difficult choice. Of course, I'd anticipated his question.

I nodded. "Yes. I would do all I could for Ethaline to be happy, even if it costs me my own— _and_ the happiness of your progeny."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

I shrugged. "The girl destined for me will make me very happy; it stands to reason that I would do the same for her. Correct?"

He looked somewhat befuddled.

"But she will never even exist if Ethaline doesn't get her cure from the witch, and I would prefer that the girl would live one day no matter what. So—yes—I will arrange for the cure whether you sign this contract or not."

"Why is a contract needed at all?" John asked. He was being more astute than I'd given him credit for.

"In the Supernatural world, such things are required," I conveyed. "And, perhaps, it will be many, many generations before a Fae-bearing girl-child is born."

John thought for several more silent moments. But, in truth, I already knew that I "had" him. Arranged marriages were the norm, rather than the exception. And John and Ethaline both had no reason to suspect me of any ill-will. Nor did I have any in actuality. In truth, I longed for a happy life with any female progeny of Niall's—as long as she could also have my children.

My motives were pure, and John clearly saw that as he agreed. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

"It is simple," I said with a soft, sincere smile that I truly felt. "We just both sign in blood, and then I will make sure that Ethaline is cured." Of course, I didn't tell him that it was my own magic that was stopping her from conceiving.

And he didn't ask any more questions before producing a knife from his pocket and asking where he was to put his name.

* * *

 **June 1990**

Niall had become craftier during the past century. Rarely did I enjoy a year altogether when I didn't have to evade his pursuit. Of course, part of this had to do with Claudine, who had become just as fanatic about catching me as her grandfather.

Much to my chagrin, she had also been tasked with protecting the Stackhouse family.

I growled. Niall hadn't forgotten about Kate Stackhouse when he'd made his way back from Faerie almost a century after I'd put him there. No—indeed—he'd returned immediately to Northern Louisiana and grieved at her grave. And his blood had led him to his kin, a young man named Earl.

Niall and Claudine had both been periodic fixtures in the Stackhouses lives since then—at least checking in on them from afar. However, I'd managed to make sure that part fairies were periodically introduced into the Stackhouse family bloodline before Niall's reappearance.

Amusingly, Niall and Claudine had been befuddled when they'd first "met" Earl Stackhouse, and they'd wondered how so many part fairies had stumbled upon the Stackhouses over the years, which was the only way to account for the still high level of fairy blood in Niall's descendant. But they'd never had cause to suspect me.

Why would they?

And, still, I confounded their efforts to capture me, for they had no idea that I could roam freely during the day. Moreover, I had become a master of disguise over the years; thus, neither had a clear idea was what my true appearance was. Currently, I'd disguised myself as a bedraggled hobo with a long dirty beard rivalling any I'd seen in the economically depressed Southern United States. Unfortunately, hiding my scent had become no easier for me, however. Therefore, I could not operate with total anonymity. Both Niall and Claudine had tracked me within the recent months, though I'd managed to elude them and circle around to Louisiana where I had finally beheld my prize: the little blond girl with the sad brown eyes.

She was perfect.

But I was, perhaps, a bit overzealous to make her mine.

Part of me knew that I ought to have simply waited for her to reach maturity. Sadly, she grew up in the timeframe of a human—for she was not borne of a fairy mother. Otherwise, only a few days would have seen her reaching _linhanpen_. Seeing that at least one of her parents did not accept her and discovering that the girl's telepathy seemed similar to Ethaline's, I decided to approach the parents—offering first to take the child off their hands in order to teach her.

They refused me.

Then I offered to buy her.

Again, they refused.

Finally, I showed them the contract, which they tried to rip up—not that the magic inside of the document would have let them do that.

And then they insulted me, causing my fangs to be seen by them. _During the daytime!_ And I couldn't have that—now could I?

Inconveniently—for me—Corbett Stackhouse expelled me from his home; of course, he didn't know that it was magic which caused my exit. He simply ordered me out—as he might order out anyone.

He even threatened me with a shotgun.

How quaint.

Of course, the two couldn't order me out of the world.

I waited for them on the bridge they had to take to reach the town. Having determined that the girl would be "scarred" and, therefore, easier to handle if her telepathy was uncontrolled into adulthood as Ethaline's had been, I was resolved to wait until the girl-child reached maturity before approaching her again. Thus, I was planning to simply glamour her parents to forget all about me. I knew that the mother could be glamoured, for she was all human. And—if the father couldn't be—I'd just kill him.

As I saw their car, I hindered their path on the bridge.

I was on my way to glamour them when I was distracted by the scent of blood— _intoxicating_ blood. The parents were dead within moments as the monster inside of me took reign. Part of me knew that they deserved it. After all, they were not worthy of the bearer of that blood!

Covered with gore, I took the little Band-Aid from the back seat of the car into my hand and inhaled its ambrosia deeply. It was the perfect mix of fairy and human: perfectly enticing and perfectly edible!

Though I knew that I could—would—somehow keep myself from killing the girl, I also knew that I would need time to train myself to do so.

I took the Band-Aid and put it into my pocket, determined to desensitize myself to its seductive forces so that I'd be just as ready for the girl when she grew up as she would be ready for me.

I was just determining what to do with the bodies of her parents and their car when an unwelcome figure appeared before me.

Claudine!

The little girl's blood had distracted me to the point that I didn't know that one of my pursuers had caught up with me!

Needless to say, I realized my folly quickly as her light and magic sent me into a realm that I immediately intuited would be difficult for me to claw my way out of.

But I would not give up!

* * *

 **PRESENT DAY**

It was extremely difficult for me to convey my rage in productive ways.

I'd uprooted a few trees.

I'd overturned a few cars.

I'd killed one or two people who'd had the misfortune of crossing my path.

I blamed the vampire for my actions.

 _Not_ the vampire in me. No. I knew that—when the world operated according to plan—I was fully in control of myself and my actions. I had spent thousands of years learning self-control and discipline—controlling the monster that Lilith had once made me to be.

Indeed, it was Eric Northman who had provoked my current state. He'd somehow managed to manipulate the female who was to be mine.

Sookie was what she called herself.

I'd been _so_ fucking patient, waiting for John Stackhouse's descendants to produce a Fae-bearing female. When possible, I'd even checked in on the family's well-being, even introducing part-Fae females to Stackhouse men so that the Fae blood wouldn't become too dilute in the line, for it seemed as if the Stackhouses would _never_ make females!

The generation before had brought forth one female, a child named Linda. However, her spark lay dormant—useless!

The last time I'd made my way to check on the progress of the family had been almost two decades before. And—finally—there she had been!

A pretty little blond girl with big brown eyes—and a spark to match my own!

Finally!

I had known that fate had finally smiled upon me. Oh—I could have taken another part-fairy during my many years of life. But I'd decided more than a millennium before that—in order to make up for my sins of the past—I needed my bride to be of Niall's line. My beloved wife had been a cousin of the Brigant clan, and I felt in the very depths of my soul that I _could_ recapture a little part of the life that the monster in me had once destroyed.

If only I could have a Fae-bearing female with ties to my long-forgotten village.

Yes. I'd waited a _very_ long time to regain the family that Lilith had caused me to lose. But I understood that my years of strife had been required by fate or the gods—or whatever seemed to dictate the rules of the universe. Hell—I had even accepted that dealing with Niall was a part of my penance. I'd had a few opportunities to kill him throughout the years, for he felt himself to be safe from me when the sun was up. However, he was _not_ safe. Indeed, I could have surprised him and killed him on any number of days.

However, I also needed him. I had confidence in Sookie being the answer to my long-asked prayers. But—if the vampire, Northman, had befouled her too greatly—I would simply have to wait until Niall had another "itch" to scratch with a human woman.

I took several deep breaths, for I could still feel the effects of breathing—despite the depravity of the "lesser side" of my current state.

And, with those breaths, I felt calmer. I had carefully set up my first meeting with Sookie—a meeting where I manufactured injuries upon myself created by a "vampire." I'd hoped that any infatuation she'd had with the night-walkers would be ended in suspicion. And I'd chosen Eric Northman as my "attacker" since he'd recently owned her home and I wasn't sure of what the relationship between the two had been.

After seeing the beauty Sookie had grown into, it had been almost impossible for me to control my fangs as the human sheriff had fussed over me. I'd allowed Sookie to see a few of my thoughts—some manufactured just for her. Hell—I'd even imagined, _many_ times, the image of Eric Northman biting into my flesh. But—from what I'd gleaned from her own thoughts, which were shielded better than Ethaline's had ever been—she did not doubt the large blond vampire. She doubted me.

And that was UNACCEPTABLE.

After that, my stay at the human hospital had been tedious.

My "questioning" by Andy Bellefleur had been even more tedious—though I'd learned something "delicious" about him. He had close contact with fairies—Halflings.

Of course, that hadn't been enough to make my time worthwhile. However, I'd needed to play the victimized human, and there were too many involved for me to risk glamour. Plus, I had still hoped that my status as vampire attack victim would soften Sookie's heart.

It had been more than eighteen hours before it had been "acceptable" to the humans for me to leave their backwoods hospital. Of course, I'd had to actively keep my magic from healing my lesser wounds so I wouldn't arouse their suspicions of me.

In truth, part of me had hoped that Miss Stackhouse would visit me in my convalescence.

But that had not happened.

I'd left the hospital and had ventured to her home—a home where I knew her grandparents had lived when I'd previously visited.

Not that I had paid them much mind.

It was Sookie's absence from the home—and that absence of all others—which had initially heightened my ire. And then I had allowed myself to smell—a luxury I had not done before, given my reaction to the Band-Aid years before.

What I'd smelled had been the catalyst of my current frenzy.

Sex.

A lot of it!

Sookie and the vampire!

But that was not the worst of it.

Given the acute state of my thousands-year-old sense of smell, I also picked up on the fact that Sookie was carrying the devil's spawn! And _that_ was not acceptable! Sookie was to use her Fae magic to mate with _me_! _Not_ an inferior vampire!

Enraged, I tore up more trees upon the land adjacent to that which belonged to the Stackhouses. And then I tore up the very earth itself, razing anything with a root along the bank of a stream which I knew would eventually make its way to Stackhouse land.

I threw all the dead vegetation into the water, hoping to muddy it up! For Sookie had surely dammed my own plans by becoming attached to a vampire. Hell! I could have accepted her love for another. But the fact that she'd spent her light upon him! A magic which had been fated for me!

I closed my eyes tightly.

"This could yet be salvaged," I said to myself. "She has now proven herself to be a viable vessel for the children of vampires," I soothed. I felt myself nodding.

"Indeed, the Northman's spawn may very well be viewed as a test-case—a trial run!" I added as I dropped the tree which had become my latest victim.

And I was certain that once Sookie understood our story and how we were destined for each other, she would accept her place with me. Indeed, if needed, I would threaten or kill Northman to ensure that she would forget about him. She would have an eternity to do so—after all.

As for the children she now grew? Whether they lived or died would ultimately be contingent upon Sookie's cooperation.

Resolved, I felt my rage diminish a little. Still, it was too close to the surface, and I was too close on edge. I recognized that I needed to take in fresh blood—preferably blood that I could use to test my control as well.

Full-blooded fairies were still too much for me, for—when I allowed myself to smell or taste them—I always failed to retain my control. Therefore, the grouping of fairies that I had learned was in the area would not be an accurate test of how I might control myself around Sookie when the time came.

However, recalling the wonderful scent that Andy Bellefleur had carried with him, I smiled.

"Perfect," I said to myself as I began my hunt.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I hope that you enjoyed Warlow's POV. I always thought that the story behind John Stackhouse was flimsy at best. I hope that I did a better job at offering Warlow's motivations (and his "inner" craziness).**

 **Next week, we'll have another INNER-Lude as our favorite Viking vampire "sleeps" the day away. It will be from Willa's POV.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	4. INNER-Lude 4--Willa

**INNER-Lude 4—Willa**

 **Headnote: This** _ **INNER-Lude**_ **should be read after "INNER-Lude 3—Warlow."**

I opened my eyes to the light of day spilling through the huge window of the bedroom I'd been shown to the night—actually, the morning—before.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 2:00 p.m.

I could hardly process the past few days—and especially nights—which had led me to be staying in a beautiful house on a tiny island off of the coast of Rhode Island.

Instead of being a virtual captive in my father's home.

I was 22—very young compared to Pam, the vampire who had recently come into my life like a bolt of lightning.

Of course, her appearance hadn't been the first drastic change to my existence. I sighed as I remembered the other time when my life was irrevocably altered. It was hard to believe that it had been almost three years since my father had changed to the point where I hardly knew him.

It had been two weeks after my nineteenth birthday, and I was home from college for the weekend. My father had begged me to go to Louisiana State University, only miles away from the Governor's mansion. And I'd given into his request, though I'd insisted that I stay in the dorms. Of course, we'd had to compromise: guards were always stationed nearby and I'd agreed to come "home" most weekends.

But—honestly—I'd not minded. I'd never been a party-girl, preferring to read and study, rather than to behave "wildly." It wasn't that I was shy either—though, looking back, I knew that I'd been sheltered. Mainly, however, I'd just always preferred knowing where I stood with people, and my father's political career and my mother's money had made that difficult. Not only did I have to deal with my guards, but also I had to deal with a lot of people who wanted to hang around with me just because my parents were richer than God and more influential than the devil.

At least—that was the saying I'd made up for my parents in my head.

Not that I'd ever risked saying that particular thought out loud.

Actually, it was my mom who was the wealthy one—so wealthy that her family made the Hiltons look like the middle class. I had always speculated that my father's ambition for political office had originated from his desire to "keep up." And he loved my mom so much that I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he'd made a deal with the devil to impress her.

I sighed as I got out of bed and trod over to the window, ignoring my screaming bladder for a moment. From my room, I could see the shoreline of Rhode Island in the distance, even as small boats moved between the island I was on and the mainland.

The view looked like freedom to me; it was beautiful.

I sighed and then went to the bathroom before following my nose to some coffee.

 _And_ to the truly beautiful man who had made it: Jason Stackhouse.

My breath caught as he turned around and gave me a crooked grin which was full of sin. I'd been able to recognize that he was a "ladies' man" as soon as I'd met him in the early—very early—morning hours as "my" vampires had met up with some other people on a plane headed from the Shreveport area to the Northeast.

It had been difficult to ignore Jason's charms, even though he'd drooled in his sleep for most of the plane trip. In fact, Jason and Sookie Stackhouse, the woman who was going to marry Pam's maker, had slept during the entire flight. And, of course, the vampires had "slept" too—in coffins.

Seeing them climb into them had been enough to keep me awake for the entire flight. Even now, I shuddered a little—in both fear and anticipation—as I thought about the fact that I, too, would soon be in need of a coffin of my own.

"Hey, there, pretty lady!" Jason greeted, even as he preened. Geez! Why wasn't the man wearing a shirt?!

"Hi," I said shyly.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked, scratching his six pack—as if he needed to draw my attention to it.

Newsflash: My attention was already there.

"Yes. Sure," I returned, trying to sound calm. And trying to look up into his eyes.

Another handsome, bare-chested man came up behind Jason and popped him in the back of the head. The other man, I knew, was named Tray, though he'd guarded the vampires' coffins in the back of the plane—at Sookie's insistence—so I'd not seen him much.

Still, I noted that—though probably ten years or so older than I was—Tray was very well-built and handsome. Once I dragged my eyes up from his eight-pack (who knew that those really existed?), I noted that his eyes were brown and held a warmth in them that warmed me, despite the cool coming through the windows of the kitchen.

"Stop drooling over the 'pretty lady,'" Tray winked at me even as I wiped the drool from the side of my own mouth. "And pour me some coffee too, Stackhouse."

Jason scoffed, but pulled two coffee cups from a cabinet.

I giggled and blushed. I wasn't used to being around men who weren't my father's business colleagues or my expressionless "keepers."

"Do you like it sweet?" Jason asked me suggestively. "Or would you prefer some cream?"

My mouth gaped as Tray hit Jason again. "Don't be a prick," he said, rolling his eyes at Jason before taking over the coffee pouring.

"What'd I miss?" Sookie asked, dragging her feet into the room, even as she was texting someone.

"Your brother is shamelessly flirting with Willa," Tray chuckled.

"Am not," Jason glared.

"And what about you, Tray?" Sookie asked.

"There's nothing _shameless_ about it?" he said, winking at me again.

I felt my cheeks inflame.

"Stop being adolescents and put on some shirts, or I'll put you both on bacon-cooking duty," she warned.

Both men quickly left the kitchen.

Sookie giggled and looked at me. "I'm so sorry that Jason and I fell asleep on you this morning on the plane. But my brother works a lot of night shifts, and I'm becoming more and more used to vampire hours."

My eyes traveled down to her pregnant belly. Was it just my imagination, or was she _A LOT_ bigger than she'd been the night before?

Nothing was mentioned about her size, however, as Tray and Jason both reentered the room—with shirts on. I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that. Meanwhile, Sookie shuffled toward the refrigerator. As if he were a little afraid not to, Jason placed a large cup of coffee on the counter near his sister.

He also placed a container of salt next to the cup, and Sookie immediately grinned at him. "Thanks, Jase," she smiled before opening the salt and pouring what had to be at least seven teaspoons into the cup.

I'm sure my mouth was gaping.

"Don't worry," she smiled at me from over her shoulder. "The doctor said that caffeine isn't bad for the babies—not in my case."

"I think she's likely surprised by the salt, Miss Stackhouse," Tray chuckled.

"Oh. Of course!" Sookie nodded before looking at Tray. "And it's Sookie," she emphasized.

"Sookie," he agreed.

"Salt is good for the babies too—apparently—and I am craving it like crazy!" she said, even as she glanced at me again.

I simply nodded. Pam had told me that Sookie was "different," but I wasn't sure how. Pam had also informed me that she needed to discuss things with her maker before she told me any specifics about Sookie. Based on what I'd seen, however, I figured that there was something supernatural about her.

I certainly wasn't supernatural. But I did have very good intuition when it came to people. And I could tell that there was a lot more to Sookie Stackhouse than met the eye.

As soon as Sookie had finished half of her cup of coffee, she peered into the refrigerator. Quickly, Tray stepped over to help her, and she'd soon tasked Jason with chopping onions because she claimed to be too emotional already and didn't need another reason to cry.

"Dammit, Sook," Jason grumbled as he took the onion and found a knife.

"Afraid to cry in front of the new girl?" Tray teased Jason, even as he winked at me _again_.

I found that I liked it when he looked at me—for any reason.

Jason grunted again. "Why don't _you_ do it?" he challenged.

Tray chuckled. "Your sister has already put me on pancake duty."

"Um—I can help," I volunteered. "Uh—I don't know how to do much, to be honest with you, but I can try."

Sookie smiled kindly and handed me a bowl of already-cracked eggs (a good thing since I didn't know how to crack them) and a whisk.

"Stir these up—will you?" she asked.

I smiled back and began the task.

"So—uh—Willa," Jason said with a sniffle, clearly fighting the tears caused by his onion chopping, "where are you from, and how did you come to be with Pam and Tara?"

"You don't already know who I am?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"I know," Sookie soothed, "and you are _more_ than welcome here."

Tray nodded in my direction, letting me know that he was aware of who I was, too.

I breathed a sigh of relief as Sookie addressed her brother. "Willa's father is Truman Burrell."

It took Jason a few minutes to place the name.

"The crazy fella—the governor?" Jason asked. "The one who came up with the Hitler thing for vampers?"

"Vampires," Sookie and I corrected at the same time.

Sookie turned to smile at me before looking at her brother and speaking firmly. "Jason, what Willa's father was planning to do has _no_ relationship to her. In fact, she was helping Pam and Tara to spy on her father."

"Dang, Sook," Jason frowned, "I wasn't sayin' nothin' bad about Willa—here. I know better than anyone that you can't pick your family."  
Sookie looked upset for a moment.

"Wait a minute!" Jason said, catching on that his comment might have been offensive to his sister. "What I meant to say was that you and Gran deserved a lot better than _me_ ," he clarified, clearly ashamed about something he'd done in the past.

Tray popped Jason in the back of the head in a brotherly way.

I found myself smiling at the older man—and thinking to myself that he wasn't actually _that_ old.

Probably no more than 35.

"Stop doin' that, man," Jason said, rubbing his head and scowling at Tray.

"Stop putting your foot in your mouth, so I can stop _needing_ to dislodge it for you," Tray grinned at Sookie.

I giggled, eliciting another wink from Tray. Though Jason Stackhouse had certainly been more attractive to me initially, I found myself shivering at Tray's attentions. And I blushed even more when he blushed in return before going back to his pancake duties as if he'd not just had that reaction.

"Set the table?" Sookie asked me as she took the bowl of eggs from my paused hands; she had a knowing look in her eyes as she glanced at Tray, and I blushed all the more, glad for an excuse to turn away from the group for a few minutes.

I shook my head at my own reaction to the men in the room as I found plates for the four of us.

"You can bring the plates here, but set out five places with silverware," Sookie said off-handedly.

"Five?" I asked myself, thinking about the others I knew were with us. Three vampires had flown with us, and two additional coffins had "met" us at the Rhode Island airport, so I knew that no one else in our party could actually eat the omelets and pancakes being made for breakfast—even if they could survive the sun coming in through the generously-sized windows that seemed to dominate almost every room of the home, except for the specially made vampire rooms, which required codes to enter.

I'd noticed after our arrival that Sookie oversaw Eric being safely put into a room that they were to share. And—because of that—she had a code. Others who were helping us, sent by the vampire king in the area, had made sure that the two vampires who'd arrived on the separate plane were safe, while Tray had made sure that Pam and Tara were safe and sound in a room together. I had to admit that I kept an eye on both of them too, especially Pam—even though I still couldn't fathom or understand the draw I felt to her.

By this time, the plates had been filled and the others had joined me at the table—with the fifth guest not having arrived yet. In fact, the others must have been eating for a while as I'd been lost in my thoughts.

"You okay?" Sookie asked kindly, even as she managed to half-glare at Jason, who'd borrowed a bit of salt for his eggs. Quickly, he slid the spice back toward his sister.

"Uh—sorry, Sook," he stammered, looking a little afraid as Tray chuckled.

Sookie looked back at me. "Are you okay?" she asked again.

"Yes. Just thinking about everything that's changed in my life over the last couple of days," I confessed.

"I know just how it feels for your life to seemingly change overnight," she said with a little smile and a pat to her belly.

I nodded. "Yeah. But it's not just that. I mean—I would have helped Pam and Tara regardless because I truly hate my father's views about vampires. But I didn't expect my _reaction_ to Pam," I said a little quieter, even as I shrugged and took a bite of my omelet before it got cold.

"Well—Pam can sure be a scary bitch," Jason drawled before shoveling what likely amounted to half a pancake into his mouth. "I gotta feelin' she'd rather drain most humans than talk to 'em," he added as he chewed.

"Jason!" Sookie admonished. "What would Gran say if she saw you talkin' with your mouth full?"

"Oops," Jason said. "Sorry," he added _after_ shoveling in yet another large bite.

I had a strong feeling that Jason and table manners weren't exactly friends. And that didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was my reaction to what he'd said about Pam. I found myself wanting to defend her, even though I recognized that Jason was right about her: she could be scary. But the way she looked at me—dealt with me—was different. Maybe that's why I felt the need to defend her.

"Pam didn't scare me when we first met. Well—maybe she startled me a little," I owned, remembering my surprise at suddenly traveling at vampire speed in Pam's arms when I'd not even realized that she was there. "But then—as soon as I saw her . . . ." I stopped, not knowing how to describe the feeling I'd had.

"Eric said that Pam felt a pull toward you?" Sookie asked helpfully. "Did you feel one back?"

"Dang it!" Jason muttered, causing everyone to quickly look at him.

"What's wrong?" Sookie asked.

"It just seems like every pretty girl nowadays is one of them lesbians," he pouted. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added quickly, "'cept that they ain't inclined to hook up with me." He pouted. "Pam, Tara, and you," he sighed. "I wonder if Jess is one now, too."

Sookie giggled loudly at her brother's words, even as I felt the need to correct them. I found myself glancing at Tray rather than Jason, however. And I felt a blush burning my cheeks.

"Um—I didn't mean I was attracted to Pam like _that_ ," I said softly. "It's just that she asked me if I'd consider being her vampire child, and it was weird, but I _knew_ I wanted to say 'yes' right away. I'd never even thought about being a vampire before, but—just like that—I felt like it was fate that Pam was there." I shrugged. "It's hard to explain."

Sookie put her hand over mine and gave me a sincere smile. I found that I was comforted by her gesture; it felt almost sisterly—or maybe even motherly in a way. "Supernatural stuff is sometimes _impossible_ to explain." She patted my hand. "If you do decide to become a vampire, I'm sure you'll learn all about that."

"You're gonna be a blood-sucker?" Jason asked incredulously, a frown overtaking his expression.

"Jason Stackhouse!" Sookie chastised. "I won't stand for such names in my presence _or_ in the presence of the kids—whose daddy is a vampire!"

"Oh, Sook!" Jason put up his hands. "I didn't mean nothin' by it. I was just surprised that _someone_ would want that," he added, glancing at me with all the subtlety of a herd of buffalo.

I hoped that I was a little more subtle as I stole another glance at Tray, hoping that his eyes didn't hold disgust or judgement.

I breathed an unexpected sigh of relief when he was simply looking at me with interest, as he'd done many times throughout the morning—um early afternoon. I felt my cheeks blush again. "Um—Pam and I are gonna wait a little while before we decide for sure—at least until after the stuff with my dad dies down. And she told me that there's a ban on turning now—anyway."

"So you might change your mind then?" Jason asked somewhat hopefully.

Oddly enough, I didn't sense that Jason was necessarily prejudiced, but it seemed clear to me that he would have preferred that the world be "normal." Of course, the fact that he supported his sister's wedding to a vampire enough to travel to Rhode Island for it said a lot about his inner character. Still, other than his good looks, I realized I wasn't that attracted to him.

Tray, on the other hand, was a different story, and—as I had that thought—my face must have turned even redder, given the heat I felt on my cheeks. I noticed that Tray's cheeks were ruddy too.

Quickly, I looked down at my plate and ate more of my breakfast, even as Jason pushed back from his spot, his own plate already scraped clean. "Well—I think I'm gonna go outside and look around a bit. There's a dock out there. I think I saw some fishin' stuff, too." He looked at Tray. "Wanna come?" he asked.

Tray glanced at me and gave me a little smile before standing. "It'd be good to get more familiar with the perimeter," he agreed. He gave me one more "look" before he left.

"He likes you," Sookie grinned once they were out the door.

At the same time as she spoke, there was a "popping" noise in the room, and a man appeared—quite literally—out of thin air.

"Who likes whom?" the man asked.

"Oh—hey, Claude," Sookie said casually, as if people appeared and disappeared around her all the time. I was sure that my mouth was gaping open, but I couldn't quite close it. "Well—both Jason and Tray seem to like Willa, actually." She gave me a knowing look. "But Willa already seems to have figured out that Jason's a can or two short of a six pack."

"Oh—well," the man named Claude shrugged. "Lucky for Jason, he's got a different kind of six pack," he said.

"Tray's is better," I muttered, causing both Sookie and Claude to chuckle.

Quickly, Claude sniffed out the plate that Sookie had left in the oven for him. He joined us at the table soon after and dug into his food.

"Sorry I was late," he said between bites—rather than _during_ one as Jason would have.

Sookie shrugged. "Is everything okay?"

Claude nodded. "Just a fight between the Claudes again." He rolled his eyes and looked at me. "My sisters—my _many_ sisters."

I nodded, though I couldn't really empathize since I had no siblings.

"A fight?" Sookie asked.

"Yes. They were arguing about how to create the best scent concealment spell." He rolled his eyes again.

"But—uh—they made one. Right?" Sookie asked. "You'll be okay if you stay for the wedding—even with the vampires around?"

Claude nodded as he finished a bite. "Yes. Don't worry. The Claudes might squabble, but they _eventually_ get it together."

"Oh—I'm so sorry!" Sookie exclaimed after she'd gulped down some salty coffee. "I should have introduced you two properly. Willa, this is my cousin, Claude. Claude, this is Willa. She was helping us with Governor Burrell. She's his daughter, actually. Oh—and she might become Pam's daughter—or, uh, vampire child—soon—as weird as that sounds," she added almost to herself.

"Oh," Claude said, offhandedly—as if the weather were being discussed. "Well, it's nice to meet you. Once you become a vampire, we likely won't run in the same circles though." He chuckled as if he'd just told a joke.

"How did you—uh?" I started, but then just pointed to where he'd materialized.

"I'm a fairy," he explained. "I can teleport to the locations of others with my bloodline. Fairies also smell really good to vampires, thus the scent concealer I'm currently wearing," he added pleasantly. "Sadly, the ingredients for it aren't the easiest to come by, and once you're a vampire, you'd have a hard time not draining me."

My face felt a little drained, given the nonchalance with which Claude spoke about my potential desire to drain him. Sookie had been right. The Supernatural world _was_ going to be very hard to get used to.

"So, do you wanna help me plan a wedding in," Sookie paused, "five hours?"

I thought that she was talking to Claude at first, but she was looking right at me.

"Huh?" I asked, inelegantly, still processing the fact that fairies were real _and_ could appear out of thin air—oh, and that vampires wanted to drain them so they had to cover their scents with magic.

"Jason will be useless—until it comes time to string up light or something," Sookie scoffed. "And—no offense Claude—but it would be nice to have a female opinion when I pick out a dress to wear."

"None taken," he said, seemingly enamored with his food. "I'm mainly here early because your bonded wanted me to make sure you stayed safe today."

"But that's why Tray's here," Sookie said with a frown.

"I think Eric wanted both of us to take care of you if you left the house," Claude said with a shrug—before he took another bite.

I listened to Sookie mutter something about highhandedness _and_ Vikings _and_ men _and_ expectant fathers before she took a long breath and then let it out slowly. "Tray _will_ stay here to make sure that no one bothers Eric and the others," she said firmly, her eyes shining in a definitely otherworldly way. Thankfully, they'd softened back to their normal brown color before she looked back at me. "Willa, I heard that you had to leave your house quickly and that you don't have a lot of clothes. Maybe we can find some stuff for you while we're out."

I glanced at Claude, who seemed amused by Sookie's protective outburst.

And her glowy eyes.

I decided to just ignore them.

"Okay," I said. In truth, I did need clothing and other personal items. As much as I was drawn to Pam, her style wasn't like mine at all. Her clothing seemed to be either soccer mom or dominatrix, and I was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl—when I could get away with it. And—honestly—I didn't want to ask Tara to lend me anything. I got the feeling that she wasn't quite sold on my presence in her maker's life, and I wasn't anxious to rock that boat in any way.

Especially not with my potential future "sister," who was also the lover of my potential maker.

Nope—that didn't seem wise at all!

* * *

"I think I've _finally_ found it!" Sookie said excitedly through the dressing room door.

I giggled behind my hand. Sookie had been dress shopping for about an hour—not a lot of time at all when it came to looking for a wedding dress, but she'd sighed and lamented her way through every minute since the assistant to the vampire king of New England had dropped us off at the wedding dress boutique.

I shook my head. A vampire king! Of course, I'd known that some vampires were higher up in whatever hierarchical system they had, but learning that there were monarchs—and learning that Eric was the acting king of Louisiana—blew my mind a little.

"But—then again—maybe I shouldn't wear white," Sookie sighed, sounding unsure of herself.

I passed her a bottle of salt water under the door—just in case it was her hormones causing the current dip in her mood.

"Thanks!" she said brightly, practically seizing the water from my hands.

I smiled to myself. In just a few hours, I had found that I liked Sookie very much. She felt almost like the older sister I'd always wanted—heck, that confidant I'd always wanted.

I'd been too shy—and too suspicious thanks to my parents—to ever really form tight friendships.

But I intuited that Sookie liked me—just for me.

"What do you think?" Sookie asked as she walked out of the dressing room, carrying the already half-drunk bottle in her hand. She spun around tentatively.

I couldn't help my grin. "You look beautiful!"

She turned to the side.

"Not too pregnant?"

I couldn't help my giggle. "But you _are_ pregnant!" In fact, she looked about six months along, and she'd also told me that she was carrying twins.

Sookie shook her head, and her expression seemed part ecstatic and part nervous—probably a "normal" look for a bride to have.

"I was always raised that I should be married _before_ I was expecting a baby— _babies_ ," she emphasized.

I smiled at her. In the hours we'd spent together, Sookie hadn't told me everything about her and Eric's situation, but I'd perceived enough to guess that she was somehow carrying his children—his _actual_ children. A vampire's children! Of course, I had no concrete evidence of that fact, and—even if I did—I had no intention of telling my theories to anyone; my instincts told me that that would be very bad for my new friend.

In fact, I was already planning to ask Pam to glamour me so that I couldn't tell anyone about any of my new vampire/human/etc. friends.

"I think that Eric would find you lovely in any color," I told Sookie honestly as I looked at her in her dress. "But—as for wearing white?" I shrugged. "I'd wager that most brides aren't virgins when they get married anymore. Heck—I'm just glad that it doesn't really matter nowadays, or even I couldn't wear white!"

Sookie looked at me in question even as I flamed into a blush as I realized that I'd just broached a subject that only two other people knew about.

But when Sookie's eyes took on intense concern, it was I who looked at her in question.

"You weren't 'hurt' when you were younger—were you?" she asked seriously, her eyes glowing again.

The undertones of her question were clear as was the power I saw in her. I knew in that moment that—if I had been hurt by someone—Sookie would be willing to exact justice for me.

It was also in that moment that I realized that Sookie had likely been molested as a child. Whether that monster had taken her virginity or not, I didn't know, but I felt the need to comfort her, so I stood and took her hand.

"I wasn't hurt like that," I assured. "When I was fourteen, I took a spill from a horse." I tried to smile, though I knew my tone was a little bitter. "I'll never forget how mad my mom was at me for no longer having evidence of my virtue." I shook my head. "I'm still not sure that she believes that I've never been with a," I paused, feeling my blush acutely, "guy."

Sookie sighed with relief and squeezed my hand. "It's okay to wait for the _right_ one."

"The security guards that my father's had tracking me since he became governor aren't helpful in that department either," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "There have been a couple of guys that I liked—really liked—but they were kind of freaked out by everything."

"Speaking of that, won't your dad be looking for you? Since you've basically disappeared?" Sookie asked.

"I called my mother," I responded. "I told her that I'd finally gotten tired of Dad's 'imprisonment' and was staying with friends, which is true I guess. She'll tell my dad—and any authorities that he contacts about my disappearance." I shrugged. "It's not like I'm not over eighteen— _and_ twenty-one," I added with a scoff.

Sookie patted my arm. "I can tell that you love your dad—you know," she said, showing that she was just as intuitive as I was. Probably more so.

"Yeah," I said. "He used to be different. I mean—he was always super overprotective, and his politics were always really conservative. And I haven't agreed with them for a long time," I shared. "But—even after vampires came out—I thought he'd be fair to them. Fair, but" I paused, "cautious. You know—stuff like, 'We have to be careful to protect our own.'" I rolled my eyes. "That's kind of how he's always operated with any people different from him—whether they're a different religion, race, sexuality, or nationality."

Sookie chuckled. "So your typical white, male, ultra-Conservative Southerner?"

I nodded and shared a knowing look with her. "He wasn't pleased when I turned out more liberal in my beliefs than he is, but he was never a hater—until my mom did what she did."

"She left him? She ran off with a vampire?" Sookie asked.

"How did you know?" I asked, wondering if Pam had told her.

"Sarah," she responded simply. "She resented you, and Eric had her glamoured at the time, so she spilled all of her thoughts."

I sighed. I hated Sarah fucking Newlin. "She made Daddy about fifty times worse than he already was—feeding his hate every chance she got."

"She _is_ full of hate," Sookie said with a mixture of sadness and anger. Her reaction alone was enough to make me like her even more. It was clear that she still had compassion even for Sarah—something that I couldn't muster.

Maybe I'd be a good vampire, after all.

"How about your mom?" Sookie asked. "Are you close with her?"

I sighed. "She and I were never really close—to tell you the truth," I responded. "I wanted to be, but she was born into wealth and then sort of lorded that over Daddy." I shook my head sadly. "I could tell that much from an early age, but he loved her so much that he overlooked it every time she condescended him. And she was always busy with her charities, which weren't actually charities at all!"

Sookie looked at me in question.

"They were really just excuses for her to look and feel important," I said bitterly. "And I was never quite pretty or talented or stylish—or whatever—enough for her."

Sookie looked sad for a moment, but then squeezed my hand. "Moms aren't always right about their daughters—you know?" she asked. I could tell somehow that she knew that fact from firsthand experience—just as I did.

I smiled at her appreciatively. "My mom and I have actually had a better relationship since she's been with Jacob."

"Her vampire?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I think he swept her off her feet and helped her to realize that there was a lot more to the world than fancy clothes and dinner parties."

"Why weren't you living with her then?" Sookie asked. "I mean—don't feel like you have to answer if I'm prying. I was just wondering."

"My dad was broken after she left—at least until Sarah Newlin infiltrated his life," I sighed. "And I was already going to school in Louisiana. And then Daddy got militant about his hatred of vampires, and I was sort of afraid to go see her—afraid that the guards he sent with me might harm her or Jacob." I closed my eyes. "I have no idea how he'll react when I become a vampire."

"He might surprise you," she said uncertainly.

"I doubt it," I sighed.

"Do you really think you'll do it? Become a vampire?" she asked, her voice quivering a little.

I nodded. "Yeah. I can't explain why, but yeah."

She looked down, and her eyes were wistful. "I wish I could be so sure about my future and what it will entail." She shrugged. "I'm just glad I have more time to decide since being part fairy will allow me to have a longer life than most."

My eyes widened. Yes—I was surprised that she was part-fairy, but I was even more surprised that she'd not already decided to become a vampire with Eric. Then again, I knew that all experiences weren't like mine.

"You didn't feel the pull to him? To Eric?" I asked her.

She froze for a moment and looked at me as if wanting to dissect my every thought.

"What did the pull feel like? For you?" she asked.

I paused for a moment, somehow knowing that her question was extremely important to her, so I tried—for the first time—to think of the feeling in words.

"It felt like all of the air had been taken out of the world when I first saw Pam. And then it just felt like I wanted—no needed—to be close to her once the air came back," I explained.

She paled a little and then closed her eyes and put her hands over her belly, which was framed beautifully by the white silk of the gown she still wore.

"I felt those things too," she said with her eyes still closed. "And I felt _more_."

I squeezed her hand, and she opened her eyes. "I think that you are getting to live out the 'more' now, Sookie," I smiled at her and glanced at her belly.

She sighed. "I'm glad that you are with us, Willa," she smiled softly at me. "Welcome to the family."

I couldn't help but to grin back. "Thank you, Sookie. Thank you," I said, never more grateful than I was in that moment—because I'd never felt so happy before.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't mind the idea of Willa in the show, but I hated the way TIIC (the idiots in charge) utilized her to make Eric into a short-sighted villain. And to make a child and then just basically abandon her? In the San Francisco scenes w/ Pam, Eric talks about how makers need to be responsible. So why would he be ready to change his philosophy so quickly in order to take on Governor Burrell? BEFORE he is even aware of the Vamp Camp? Anyway, Eric deserved better and so did Willa. I wanted to develop her character a little.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this "INNER-Lude"; we'll return to Eric's perspective in** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **next week.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	5. INNER-Lude 5--Adilyn & Braelyn

**INNER-Lude 5.1—Adilyn**

* * *

 **A/N: This "INNER-Lude" comes chronologically after chapter 23 of** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **.**

* * *

"But we don't wanna grow up!" Charlaine—or Charl, as we thought of her—told our daddy as he asked us to go to bed for what seemed to be the millionth time during the past day and night.

"But you can't stay awake forever," he said in his gruff voice—a voice that somehow sounded like music to me. Maybe that was because I could read from his thoughts just how much he loved my sisters and me.

"We know, Daddy," Braelyn—or Brae—said, acknowledging the truth that sleep would eventually win out, no matter how stubborn we were. But that didn't mean we were willing to be its easy conquests.

Simply put, we knew that—as soon as we slept—we would grow up more. And, currently, only Danika—or Danny—was in favor of us doing that. She was anxious to grow up, but Char, Brae, and I weren't convinced. And majority ruled, so Danny had to deal with it.

Daddy sighed and mumbled about our stubbornness as he left our room, but I knew that a part of him was really grateful that we were trying to stay "his little girls." I could tell from his thoughts that he hadn't been expecting to have us, but now he was glad that we were his kids—very glad. In fact, he was the reason why my vote was still to try to stay awake.

And—once Charl had discovered Red Bull? Well—all bets were off! That stuff was like a magical formula for energy! And, with it, we intended to stay kids for at least a few more days! Plus, that would also give Sookie and Eric's babies a chance to catch up with us a little.

I smiled as I thought of _my_ baby. Though not as vocal about claiming him as Danny had been about claiming _hers_ , I'd felt _my_ baby's spirt as if he were yelling at my own. And—when Holly had read us the story of "Sleeping Beauty" the night before, I couldn't help but to think that I'd already discovered my prince.

Not that I was really like the princess in the story. There was no way I intended to sleep through my life!

Speaking of which, I pushed my hand against Brae, making sure that she was good and awake.

"What?" she asked grumpily.

"Let's get more Red Bull," Danny suggested, for—though she was against us staying awake—she was still our leader and had accepted the group decision without argument.

Daddy was drinking coffee at the kitchen table as we skipped in and grabbed our beverages.

"I'm still not sure little girls should be drinkin' those," he grumbled under his breath, even as he stood up. "Y'all want pancakes?"

"With chocolate chips!" Brae grinned.

Daddy chuckled and lifted her up into his arm. "How else would I make them, princess?"

Brae giggled as Daddy darted kisses over her cheeks before setting her down.

I grinned at them both. I couldn't rightly explain how I felt older than a human child—even one who "looked" my age. But I did. I also "felt" older than my sisters for some reason, and I appreciated the moments like the one I was in the middle of—with Daddy looking so happy and my sisters all smiling up at him.

I found that I was able to notice little things that my sisters seemed to miss—like how Daddy knew that Brae and Danny preferred sausage, while Charl preferred bacon. And he knew that I didn't really like either one, which was why he would make sure I had extra pancakes.

I guess those were just the kinds of things that daddies _knew_ , but I couldn't help but to be grateful that my own daddy seemed to be learning things faster than other daddies would have. I guess he had to since we were growing up so fast.

Maybe that's why most of my sisters and I wanted to put the brakes on as far as our growing went.

I understood the fact that my sisters and I were _very_ different from human kids in a way that my sisters didn't really think about. But that was okay. I figured that noticing things like that was my role among my siblings, and—as soon as Daddy had finished plating our food—I entwined my arms around his waist.

"Love you, Daddy," I said, starting off a round of more "I love you's" from my sisters as they began eating.

Daddy smiled brightly, and I knew I'd done my job as I jumped up onto my seat and began eating my own breakfast.

Unfortunately, Daddy had to go to work after breakfast, and Aunt Portia was our babysitter _again_ —since everyone else seemed to be working.

She walked into the kitchen and gave us her "normal" look—which spoke volumes about just how "abnormal" she thought we all were.

"Do you think we could glamour her?" Brae asked me telepathically. She and I were definitely the stronger telepaths among our sisters, and we had learned that we could "speak" to just one another if we focused our thoughts.

"Vampires are the only ones who can glamour though—right?" I asked back.

"I don't know," Brae returned contemplatively. And then she unfocused her telepathy so that she included Charl and Danny in her projected thoughts, too. "Hey, do you think fairies can glamour people?"

Why she'd not just included them to begin with was initially a mystery to me, but then I thought about it for a minute. And then I realized that Brae thought differently from the rest of us. She was shyer—more humble. And I recognized in that moment that she liked running things by me first because she trusted me not to make fun of her. I felt honored to have that trust.

Not being as good at projecting thoughts, Charl shrugged and spoke aloud in response to Brae's question, "I don't know, but it'd be nice!" Of course, the fact that Charl seemed to speak randomly caused Aunt Portia to look at her funny.

"Hey, Danny?" I projected. "You're the one who can tell what people's gifts are. What about it? Can fairies glamour people?"

Danny looked to be thinking really hard, and I put myself into her head so that I could hear her. I could tell that Brae and Charl were in her head, too.

Danny seemed to be shuffling through the things we'd learned from Claude the night before about fairy powers. And she was also thinking about _how_ she'd known about Sookie's babies' gifts; the knowledge had just seemed to pop into her head. She looked at me, Charl, and Brae closely. Unfortunately, however, she couldn't pick up any signs that any of us had the ability to glamour anyone.

"Sorry," she thought.

"We'll just stun her if she's mean to us," I spoke up into the others' heads as Daddy finished his breakfast and stood up.

"Can I get some hugs before I go to work?" he asked.

My sisters and I all grinned as we surrounded him and hugged him tight.

"I'll be back around 5:00 p.m.," he promised before bending down to give us each a kiss on the forehead. "You're gonna try to stay up until then—right?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, Daddy!" my sisters and I chorused.

Aunt Portia looked as if Daddy's words were somehow frustrating to her. "I'm going to the library to read," she huffed as she exited the room.

"Do we _really_ have to have her here?" Charl asked.

Daddy nodded. "Y'all are the ones tryin' to stay kids," he chuckled before kissing us all again and then moving toward the door. "Y'all be good—okay?"

"Yes, Daddy," we chimed innocently.

As soon as he was gone, however, we smiled at each other wickedly. "Addy is right," Danny said. "If she messes with us, Brae and I will stun her."

"Why can't I do it?" Charl complained.

Danny rolled her eyes. "'Cause your light's different, and Daddy'd be real mad if we killed Aunt Portia!"

Charl pouted. "I guess you're right."

"I don't get to do it either," I said, trying to make Charl feel better. Having light that came out green apparently meant that I was a healer or something! Frankly, I would have preferred white light like Brae and Danny. Stunning Aunt Portia had been my idea—after all.

But I'd already figured out that things didn't always happen the way I wanted them to.

* * *

 **THREE HOURS LATER**

The sun was well up in the sky when Charl suggested that we go play outside in the old treehouse that had been built by Daddy and Uncle Terry.

Everyone in agreement, we ran down the stairs.

Of course, that also happened to be when Aunt Portia stepped out of the library for the first time that day.

"Where are you four going?" she asked haughtily as we came to a screeching halt in front of the front door.

"Treehouse," Danny answered somewhat defiantly.

"You didn't get my permission to leave the house," Aunt Portia said through narrowed eyes.

I scoffed. "You don't care about what we do anyway."

"And you want us out of your hair," Brae said—though somewhat timidly—having read the thought from Aunt Portia's head.

The woman scoffed. "You four are to go upstairs immediately and take a nap! Why your father allows you to run wild is beyond me, but it stops now!"

Danny and Brae exchanged a look, even as I yelled, "Hit her!" into their heads.

Charl yelled, "Do it," out loud.

The next thing I knew, both Brae and Danny had shot their light at Aunt Portia, and she hit the ground.

Hard!

"She isn't dead—is she?" Brae asked nervously.

I shook my head as I saw her chest rise and fall. "Nope, but I reckon she'll be out for a while."

"You think Daddy's gonna be mad at us?" Charl asked.

"Oh—yeah!" Danny said with a shrug.

"But it was worth it," I added.

My sisters and I giggled as we went outside and skipped toward the treehouse.

Not surprisingly, Danny led the charge up the treehouse ladder. Charl followed, but I stayed back since Brae was scared of heights. I offered to teleport her up, but she merely shook her head and—with a determined look—climbed the ladder herself.

I felt proud of her as I followed.

I didn't know exactly how we were like or unlike other young girls as we giggled through a discussion of boys—with Danny and me fawning over two who hadn't even been born yet. Gratefully, neither of our sisters seemed to have any interest in the Northman boys. Charl said that she'd settle for no one less that Prince Harry.

Whoever that was.

Meanwhile, Brae just giggled as the rest of us went on and on about our chosen mates.

We'd wiled away at least an hour before we decided that we should get some snacks. Since Danny and I were the ones who could teleport, we were elected to go and get them, but that was okay. I needed to use the bathroom anyway!

Danny and I popped into the kitchen, and she started making us sandwiches as I skipped toward the nearest bathroom. I had to step over Aunt Portia on the way and was pleased to see that she was still "asleep." I did my business in the bathroom, making sure that my thoughts were shut off from my sisters as I did.

There were already some things that I didn't care to share with them. And "going number 2" was definitely one of them!

After I was done, I carefully washed my hands as Daddy had taught and stepped back over Aunt Portia before making my way back to the kitchen.

And that was when I opened up my mind to my sisters again.

I screamed as I heard them screaming in my head!

And then I teleported to them.

* * *

 **INNER-Lude 5.2—Braelyn**

I was the smallest of my siblings—by a few inches. I'd heard Aunt Portia call me "the runt of the litter" in her head. And I knew that wasn't a positive description.

But maybe my diminutive size was why all my sisters were more protective of me.

I _did_ know that they were all more outgoing with others than I was. And—somehow—I felt like they were all more special too. My telepathy was good, but I felt that Addy's was better. I had white light, but Danny's was stronger. And Addy and Charl both had different kinds of light than I did—with Addy's being green and Charl's reddish.

Danny was so fearless! And Addy was so smart! And Charl was so happy with herself!

I suppose I should have been jealous of them all in some ways, but I loved them too much for that.

Addy and Danny had gone inside for snacks, and Charl decided that we should go swing on the tire hanging from the treehouse. I hated going down the ladder since I was scared that I might fall, but seeing Charl do it so quickly gave me the confidence I needed to scramble down to the ground as well.

Charl had insisted that I take the first turn on the swing, and she was pushing me as high as she could.

When I _heard_ him.

Warlow.

The sound of his thoughts was scarier than anything I'd ever imagined—anything I'd thought possible.

And—in that moment—I learned what evil was.

Warlow.

"Run!" I yelled to Charl, even as I jumped from the swing. I landed on my hands and knees and felt the pain of skinning them for the first time in my life, but I immediately got up and took off for the house, even as a confused Charl followed me. Her telepathy couldn't stretch out like mine could, so that was how I'd "heard" the evil in the woods when she hadn't.

But, still, she trusted me enough to run with me.

But it turned out that evil was much faster than Charl and me.

It had caught up to us before we could make it half-way to the house.

And it came in the shape of a handsome man who seemed to appear before us on the breeze.

"Hey there, little fairies," he said in a tone that sent chills through my spine.

Charl immediately stepped in front of me—obviously in a protective mode.

Fairy instinct.

"Don't come any closer!" she ordered bravely.

The man looked at us with amusement. "This is going to be fun," he said before speeding to Charl.

Her red light fired, but he was too quick for her. Her light hit the bush that had been behind him—rather than Warlow.

He grabbed her, and her legs dangled in the air as he bit into her neck. Her scream filled the air, and only a moment later, I heard two "pops."

One was Danny teleporting to us.

The other was the snap of Charl's neck breaking.

Danny was wide-eyed as she took in the predator who had our sister in his grasp.

His fangs were down and bloody.

"Vampire," Danny whimpered.

I knew that her identification was true, even though it was daytime.

Danny ran toward me and we both raised our hands to fire white light at the man who now held the limp body of Charl in his hands. But he didn't let her go, despite the fact that he staggered back a few steps when our light struck him.

Addy appeared in the next second, looking stunned as she took in what was happening.

And that was when the vampire threw Charl to the ground before zipping toward me.

I felt white-hot pain seer through my body as he bit into my neck.

I tried to kick him with my dangling feet, but failed. And I was sure that I was going to die.

"Run!" I yelled again—this time to Danny and Addy. I prayed that they could get away, even as I somehow called upon the last of my strength to grip the arm of the evil vampire who was feeding from my frail body. I sent all of the light I could into him.

But then I had no strength left inside of me, and the world went black.

* * *

I was surprised when I woke up.

Surprised to still be alive.

"Oh, my God!" I heard. It was Danny's voice. "She's dying!"

I couldn't open my eyes, and my whole body was cold.

I whimpered.

"She's alive," I heard Addy say.

"Charl!" Danny yelled. "We _have_ to go back out and get her!"

"No," I choked out, somehow finding the strength to speak. "She's gone," I whimpered.

I knew that she was. I'd heard the snap of her neck. I'd seen her fixed eyes.

And I instinctively knew what death looked like.

Charl had stepped in between our attacker and me; she'd bravely tried to save us. But he'd been quicker, and he'd killed her!

I managed to get my eyes open and saw the tear-streaked faces of Danny and Addy.

I felt myself shivering.

"She's dying," Danny repeated fearfully as she looked at me.

And I knew that she was right. I was dying—bleeding to death.

"No!" Addy yelled, even as a greenish light filled the air. I felt warmer after that and then stronger.

I looked around and could tell that we were in the foyer to the house, and I speculated that my light had stunned Warlow so that Addy and Danny could teleport us all inside. I heard a banging at the door and somehow knew it was the predator who'd been after us.

"Warlow," I muttered.

"He can't get in!" Danny yelled. "If he really is a vampire, he can't get in!"

"But he's outside during the day," I heard Addy say, though she sounded tired. I wondered if she'd been hurt too as more warmth filled me and the green light around me became darker.

"Stop, Addy, before you hurt yourself!" I heard Danny cry out.

"But she was almost drained," Addy said back, though she sounded even weaker.

And that's when I realized that she was using her healing light to save me.

Feeling stronger, I sat up even as Addy fainted to the floor.

"Addy!" I yelled out as there was more banging at the door and then at the side of the house.

I stretched out my telepathy and "found" Warlow. I focused on him and "heard" that he couldn't come into the house without an invitation, but he could still tear it down.

"I can smell you in there, little fairies," he said menacingly. "Come out, or I shall blow your house down!"

I looked at Danny and suddenly had an idea. We'd all been to Daddy's workplace.

"Teleport us to Daddy," I sent Danny telepathically, focusing the thought only to her.

Danny's eyes widened as she nodded in understanding.

I glanced toward Aunt Portia. "Her first," I sent to Danny.

Though she frowned, Danny nodded and then ran to Aunt Portia. Within seconds, they were gone. And then seconds later, she was back.

"I think I can take you both at once," Danny thought toward me.

I nodded, even as I felt the impact of a large object against our house. It was Daddy's pickup truck and it smashed a hole into the wall not far from where we were crouched down.

The evil Warlow immediately peered at us through the opening.

"I might not be able to get to you yet, but there are _so_ many more things to throw," he grinned before hefting Charl's dead body through the opening. Her corpse came to a skidding stop right in front of me, and I put a hand onto her as Danny focused all of her strength to try to teleport all four of us out of there.

I closed my eyes and prayed that it would work, and—when I opened them—I saw that it had.

Daddy was crouched down next to Aunt Portia.

But as soon as he saw my sisters and me, his focus turned toward us.

And on all the blood on us.

I was aware enough of our surroundings to know that we were at the police station as Daddy ran to us, yelling at Kenya to call an ambulance. Addy was still unconscious from healing me, but Daddy seemed to recognize that she was alive—just as he knew that Danny and I were alive.

It was Charl's opened and unmoving eyes that he focused upon as a sob left his body. He fell to his knees and took her into his arms, large tears falling from his eyes as he hugged her tightly to him.

Addy whimpered as she began to wake up, and I reached for her to help to steady her as she sat up.

"Oh God!" Kenya yelled out as she realized that Charl was dead. "What happened?"

"A bad man," I said. "Warlow. A vampire."

"Vampire?" Kenya asked disbelievingly.

"He had fangs," Danny said.

"But it's daytime," Daddy said in disbelief.

I don't know how I did it, but I projected a picture of the bad man straight into Daddy's head, making sure to show his fangs.

"Ben Flynn," he muttered.

Daddy's eyes widened in shock, but then he widened his arms, beckoning Danny, Addy, and me into them.

We went to him, with Addy accepting my help getting there since she was still weak from saving me. And there we stayed as Daddy rocked us while we all cried.

Neither of my remaining sisters nor I could speak again as Daddy held us all tight.

And then I heard him speak, though the grief was thick in his voice.

"Call Sookie Stackhouse," Daddy said. "She might be able to help. But—regardless—she definitely needs to be warned."

Daddy rocked us all some more as we heard the sirens of an ambulance coming, but it was too late for Charl.

"She saved my life," I whimpered as I took my deceased sister's hand.

Daddy wept even louder and then he hugged us all—including Charlaine—tighter.

* * *

 **A/N: In the show, we see Andy losing 3 of his children when Jessica kills them when Billith is out of the room. I hated this. First, I thought it was horrible to take so many of Andy's girls in a mere minute. Secondly, I hated that Jessica was even in the position to do this. I mean—how dumb was Billith? Jessica is only a year or so old at this point, and her maker trusts her with half-fairy children?**

 **Also, on the show, the fact that Warlow was a monster who decimated the fairy club and killed everyone there was "hurried over" when the writers decided to put Sookie with him (Hey, Sookie, in addition to killing your parents and wanting to own you, this guy killed all those fairies you hung out with last season. You okay with that? Sure! When's the sex scene?) Anyway, don't get me started! I'm just happy to be able to totally rewrite this season.**

 **Now—onto what I did and why: My first draft had two of the girls being killed by Warlow, but Braelyn (the other girl who was going to be killed off) just wouldn't let me do it to her. I didn't kill Charlaine because of her namesake either. Honestly, when I was writing this section, I considered what the girls' future stories would be, and Danika, Adilyn, and Braelyn "spoke" to me more.**

 **Now—to the harder question: Why did I kill off** _ **any**_ **of the girls? Sigh. It was a difficult decision, especially after I started writing scenes with them and they came alive to me. In the end, there were three reasons. One: I needed to show that Warlow—despite any protestations he might make—is a villain. He hunts down these kids because he's evil, though he might protest that he was just "building up a tolerance" so that he wouldn't hurt Sookie later. Two: I wanted the girls to prove their potential, but, honestly, I thought it would be unrealistic to put them up against Warlow and have them all come out alive. I think that the fact that any of them made it is pretty amazing. Three: I thought that Andy was one of the best characters in Season 6; clearly, he'd evolved as a character—as a man, as a father, as a potential mate to Holly. (In fact, the only thing that gave me pause regarding him about that season was when they made him be part of Bill's "prop-up"/Jessica & Hoyt's wedding—but that was just another moment of writer asininity.) Anyway, I felt that some of Andy's evolution couldn't have happened if he'd not lost his children. So I kept part of this element in my story.**

 **All this being said, I'm still sad that I killed off Charl. Even this morning, I thought about changing this part of the narrative. But, in the end, no story can be all happy and without loss—especially with a homicidal faepire on the loose. So—yeah—I'm sorry if I left you sad. I'm sad too.**

 **We'll be back to Eric's POV next week.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	6. INNER-Lude 6--Thalia

**INNER-Lude 6—Thalia**

* * *

 **Headnote: This "INNER-Lude" occurs after Chapter 24 of** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **.**

* * *

 **BYZANTINE GREECE (835 A.D.)—NEAR ARGOS**

I'd come to be fond of the man who had taken me as his wife. A widower without children, Loxias looked to be about as old as my father when he spotted me. I had just come of age, and the man decided that I was worth the bride-price my father had set for me.

Loxias was a landowner and a ship maker—and a skilled one, too. So being his wife had given me a certain amount of status and comfort.

We lived on a small vineyard outside of the town, and we had slaves to work the land and make the wine and olive oil that was yielded from it, for Loxias was too busy with his ships to worry about an estate.

Loxias was a kind man. He beat neither me nor his slaves. In fact, our slaves lived better than most free workers. Loxias made sure that they had good homes, adequate food, and even medicine when needed. And he gave them their freedom after they'd worked off the amount he'd paid for them. Not surprisingly, none of the free men or women chose to leave us, for they were happy with us, and Loxias would pay them a yearly wage if they stayed on.

Many of my husband's societal equivalents, including my father, critiqued him for this practice, but Loxias was a man of principle. He even saw to it that I was educated once we were married, and—though I could not quite understand why he insisted upon my education—I was happy to learn to read and write. And I loved learning about other places in the world, too!

In fact, after a while, Loxias began to speak to me of his business—and his ideas about life in general. He even listened as I express my own—albeit less developed—ideas on such matters.

And Loxias was patient, too. Though we married during my fourteenth year, it took me until my twentieth year to conceive a child for my husband. And, in all that time, he never showed me any displeasure.

I bore him a boy, whom his father named Aegis—a tribute to his own father.

A year later, I gave birth to twins—a son and a daughter named Cirio and Iona.

Loxias was well-pleased with me—as I was pleased with him, and I enjoyed being a mother and wife very much.

I spent my days tending to the little ones and overseeing the slaves and free workers as my husband worked.

I spent my nights in bliss in my husband's loving arms.

* * *

Aegis was a rambunctious child—beautiful and spirited.

I first noticed that he seemed to be able to read my thoughts when he was only two years old. Loxias did not seem surprised when I told him of my suspicion—nor did he seem disquieted.

In fact, he explained that the gift of reading thoughts was from the gods and had been given to him too, though he said that it needed to be kept a secret. He told me that his mother was what the gods called a faerie, which was a blessed group of beings full of magic and power. He said that he'd been born with what the faerie people called a "spark." And—because he'd been born to a Fae-bearing female—he'd grown from childhood to adulthood within only a few days!

He also told me that he was _much_ older than he appeared—almost nine centuries older, in fact.

Loxias said that his previous wife had been a full-blooded faerie, but she had not been blessed with the ability to have children. Thus, when she'd passed on to what he called the Summerlands, he'd looked for a human wife, hoping to have children.

He told me that he was grateful for me—very grateful.

He beseeched me not to be afraid of him or our children.

I was not afraid.

I soon found out that Loxias had other gifts beyond his thought-reading. He could meld two pieces of iron together with his bare hands. A light would emit from them, but it would not burn him.

He told me that our children might eventually have similar gifts. His revelations did not sway my feelings for my sons and my daughter, however. I loved them. It was as simple as that.

And I knew that Loxias would teach our children to use their gifts wisely—just as he'd been taught. Meanwhile, I tried to teach them the lessons my own parents had taught me.

Kindness. Respect. The value of working hard.

Love.

* * *

Time passed.

The children grew.

I was pregnant again as my twenty-fifth birthday passed. Aegis was four years old, and the twins were due to turn three the next week. They, too, had the ability to read thoughts, and I often felt left out as my family would speak to each other in their minds as I was left to wonder what they might be thinking.

Still—I did not begrudge them their gifts. I supposed I just wished I could be like them.

It was summer—hot and humid. Heavy with child, I was often drawn to the stream half a league from our home.

The children were happy to go with me, for all of them were like fish in the water, and little Aegis enjoyed fishing. My eldest boy liked the thought of providing sustenance for his family, and he was teaching little Cirio too.

I had found a perfect spot in the stream; it was under a mature olive tree. I lay there in the water—my eyes half-opened and half-closed—watching my children splashing together happily, even as I held my hands over my distended belly, wondering if my newest child was already somehow speaking to his or her brothers and sister.

I dozed off with a smile on my face.

* * *

The first scream I heard belonged to Cirio.

But the others were soon screaming too.

No longer asleep, I half-ran and half-swam toward my little ones, even as growls filled the air. I couldn't see what was attacking them. It moved too fast!

Still—I threw myself in its path, trying to stop it from reaching my daughter—even as I registered the bodies of my two sons floating in the water.

They were both face down.

And the stream was red.

The monster paused before me.

He looked like a man, but fangs jutted from his mouth.

His eyes moved from my frightened orbs to my belly.

He inhaled deeply.

"You smell of heaven, human," he growled.

I pushed my daughter toward the shore.

"RUN!" I thought at her, knowing she would hear me.

Iona did not hesitate. She scrambled up the bank and began running as fast as her little legs would carry her back to our home.

"I could _easily_ catch her," the predator before me smirked. "I could kill her as quickly as I killed these," he added, gesturing toward my floating sons.

"No," I gasped. "Please. No."

"Why should I show you mercy?" he asked.

"If you are a devil, I will offer my soul," I swore.

"I _am_ a devil," he said contemplatively. "But you are _not_ what I want."

He took a step toward me, displacing the water before him as he did.

In the next moment, I was ripped from the stream and thrown onto land so quickly that my spine snapped.

I could not move. I could not feel anything below my neck.

I could not feel my unborn child.

But I could see the monster approaching me.

I screamed as I saw him rip into my belly.

Blood and gore filled my vision, and I knew the life within me was now gone.

I fainted for a moment, but I forced myself back to consciousness, praying to the gods that my daughter's feet were still moving fast—that she would find safety.

The predator's face appeared before me, leaning and leering over mine. " _Delicious_ ," he said, his mouth stained with the blood of my unborn child, his hands holding an impossibly tiny body.

"Your daughter tasted of ambrosia," he added sickly.

"A daughter," I whimpered.

"Now I will drain the ones whose necks I snapped," the monster declared.

I could not move my neck anymore, but—showing his sadism—the monster did it for me so that I was looking at the water once more.

As if toying with me, the villain slowly went to Aegis's corpse and then brought his neck up to his lips before biting into his dead body.

I could only grunt as I felt more hot tears on my cheeks.

I knew that my hands could not brush them away.

When my eldest boy's body was completely pale and drained of its blood, the creature threw him onto the bank near me.

But I couldn't reach out for him.

The monster next picked up Cirio and drained him as he'd done his brother. The creature carried the emaciated body of my second son and placed it almost tenderly next to his brother.

He looked down at me with angst in his eyes.

"This was not my fault. You and your children were too tempting to resist," he accused. " _You_ are to blame for their deaths," he emphasized, even as he picked up the tiny corpse of my unborn daughter and put her with my sons.

I couldn't find the power to speak and I couldn't feel my body, but I did know that I was bleeding out—dying.

I continued to pray for my daughter's life.

Appearing almost drunk, the monster left.

I stared at my dead children. I could see Cirio's opened and terror-filled eyes. He'd died afraid.

And I died just a little more for knowing that.

But the fates were not done punishing me for some unknown crime I must have committed.

The monster appeared before me again. My daughter—my last living child—was kicking in his arms.

"I thought I was sated, but this one just smells so sweet," he said before he ripped into her throat.

I found the voice to scream as I witnessed Iona's life leaving her eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked weakly as the monster threw her body toward those of her siblings.

He tilted his head and looked at me curiously. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"To curse you," I spit out, noticing that my mouth now tasted of my own blood. "To curse you before you kill me too."

"I have already killed you," he said with a drunk-sounding chuckle. "But I will not drain you. I wouldn't want to ruin the lovely flavor in my mouth with your plain blood."

"Give me your name! Let me curse you!" I begged, certainly sounding irrational.

"I am cursed already," he responded.

"Then one more won't hurt you," I spit out.

He chuckled. "I like your spirit, woman. So I will tell you. Warlow is my name," he said. "And— _if_ your curse works—I will be grateful for it," he added before seeming to disappear.

After that, I worked hard to keep my eyes open—so that I could watch over my children.

Though I'd already failed to keep them safe.

I wished that I could move any of my limbs to get to them. But I couldn't. Warlow had broken my back—along with my heart.

It was many hours later when Loxias found us. Only then did I close my eyes.

I'm sure he thought I was dead at first, for he went straight to our children and wept over them. As I faded into the darkness, I could not blame him for showing favor to them.

"I am sorry," I managed to whisper, thinking that those would be my final words.

"Thalia!" he cried out incredulously, before scooping me up into his arms.

"Monster," I whimpered. "A monster killed them."

"Do not think on that. You will be fine," he said, kissing my forehead and running with me toward our home.

But I knew I wouldn't be fine. I couldn't even feel his arms holding my body.

And then I slipped away.

* * *

 **THREE NIGHTS LATER**

I woke up thirsty, so incredibly thirsty that it was difficult for me to form a thought.

A jug of red liquid was thrust before me.

"Drink," a male voice said.

The scent of the liquid made me feel even thirstier, and I immediately did as the voice had bid.

Sweet.

Warm.

Thick.

Luxuriant.

"More!" I said desperately as I licked the top of the jug.

Another was given to me.

As I took my fourth jug, I began to think again.

"How is it that I can move?" I asked the man who had handed me the liquid paradise. "How am I alive?"

"Drink," he said simply. "Drink until you have no more need, and then we will speak."

I drank until I was sated. And then I looked at the man who'd given me sustenance.

His skin was darker than mine, but—at the same time—it seemed pale. He had an other-worldly look about him. And I gasped. "Are you a monster? Like the one who killed my children?"

The man tilted his head and studied me for a moment. "My name is Mesehti," he said, "and I am a vampire."

"Vampire?" I asked. I'd never hear the word.

A clicking sound filled the air, and the man's mouth opened to reveal fangs.

I screamed and moved into the corner of the hut I was in.

"Thalia," he said soothingly. "I will _not_ harm you."

"One such as you killed my children," I panted.

"That cannot be," he said calmly. "My kind— _your kind_ —can be out only during the night. Your children were killed when the sun was high in the sky. I saw them, and it looks as if our kind killed them, but that is truly impossible."

"Our kind?" I breathed.

He nodded.

"Where is Loxias? Where is my husband?" I yelled out.

The creature before me sighed and hid his fangs as another clicking sound filled the air. "I have owed Loxias a favor for centuries," he said. " _You_ were to be that favor. He asked that I turn you—that I make you my child so that you could live on."

"Your child?" I asked.

He motioned toward his mouth. "Feel your own," he instructed as he showed me his fangs once again.

Tentatively, I moved my fingers to my mouth and cut the tip of my thumb on what I found there.

Resisting drinking my own blood with difficulty, I watched as the small wound healed within seconds.

"You were almost dead when the sun set on the day you were attacked. Loxias had sent a servant to my home—to fetch me," he said quietly. "Loxias loved you and did not want your existence to end. So I drained the rest of your blood and fed you mine. When I did that, your body healed of the wounds that had been made in it, and you became like me."

"I'm a monster—like the one who killed my babies!" I cried.

"Again, that is _not_ possible. You will soon learn that our kind cannot survive in the sun," Mesehti said. "We die during the day— _every day_." He shrugged. "And—as for being a monster? I do _not_ believe that to be true. The thirst that you woke up with would make you hunt and feed on human blood—similar to how a lion would hunt and feed upon an antelope. However, I will help you to learn how to feed _without_ killing—if that is your wish."

I retched, though nothing came out of my mouth. I looked at one of the jugs I'd gulped out of; only then did I recognize that the red liquid was most certainly blood—human blood. I heaved again.

"The thought of drinking human blood should _not_ disgust you," Mesehti chuckled. "It is now the only sustenance that will truly nourish you."

"No," I gasped in horror. "Why did Loxias not allow me to die—to join our children?"

He sighed. "I cannot answer that for him."

"Can you kill me— _please_?" I begged.

"I could," he said matter-of-factly. "I am very old and have the strength to crush you with my hands or rip your head off. Or I could stab wood into your heart or leave you to die in the sun. But I will not do any of those things to you. In fact, as soon as I saw you, I knew that I would still owe Loxias his favor, for I couldn't accept you as such. Thalia, I _wanted_ you to be my child!" he added passionately.

"What? Why?" I stammered.

"You were attacked only a little after noontime, and you wounds were profound. Your womb was literally pulled from your body; your spine was shattered. And—yet—you were still alive when I came. You were fighting for breath; it was clear that you had an amazing spirit—that you would make a magnificent vampire. I knew that the gods still had purpose for your life."

"I no longer believe in the gods," I spit out.

He smiled indulgently. "Perhaps you will again one day. Anyway, I meant _my_ gods—not yours. I meant the gods of Alexandria."

"You are Egyptian?" I asked.

"You know something of the world," he said, looking pleased.

I nodded. "My husband taught me. Where is Loxias?" I asked again. "Please. Tell me."

"He buried your children and moved on," Mesehti said compassionately.

"But why?" I asked desperately. "Why did he leave me?"

"Thalia," he sighed, "Loxias is half-fairy. And you are a newly-turned vampire. You _would_ try to kill him if you were around him."

"What?" I asked, horrified. "No! I would not!" I insisted.

He smiled at me indulgently. "Yes. You would. Even humans would be too much of a temptation for you to resist at this time. Should you be within a league of a fairy, your instincts to feed would be out of your control."

I shook my head in denial.

He looked sad as he rose from where he'd been sitting. "Come with me."

"No! Where is Loxias?"

"Come!" he ordered forcefully.

I felt his words like a chain, pulling me after him.

We walked out into the night; it was not long before I recognized that we were not far from Argos. And then I smelled something that made my fangs ache.

"It is a human," Mesehti said. "Not quite half a league away."

My knees buckled and I fell to the ground in shame and pain. "I want to kill him. I want to take _all_ his blood."

My maker got onto his knees as well. "I won't let that happen. I swear it, Thalia."

I looked into his eyes; they were an impossibly dark color of brown, yet they seemed illuminated from within.

They amazed me. In fact, I realized that all of the messages being sent to my brain from my senses were amazing!

"Let yourself feel the night," he said softly—knowingly. "Open your spirit and really take the night in."

Though I didn't feel compelled by Mesehti's words, I did as he suggested.

The night sky was not black at all. It was an amazing amalgam of blues and purples, and it was lit up with stars that seemed to be of many colors.

"I'd always thought that they were all white," I whispered.

"They are not," he said, following my eyes to the heavens. "And there are many stars in the heavens that humans cannot see."

"Do fairies come from up there?" I asked breathlessly.

"Somewhere up there. Yes," he replied. "There are doors between here and their world, so they can pass into this world rather easily. Loxias told me of them. He's seen the fairy world—but just once. He told me that there are two suns there and that it is always daytime."

He chuckled. "And that wouldn't do well for a vampire."

"How do you know him? Loxias?" I asked, trying to keep my mind from obsessing about the nearby human, whose delicious scent seemed to literally be wafting through the air.

"As I suggested before, the scent of fairies is intoxicating to vampires. The older I've gotten, the more I can resist the scent, but—once taken—fairy blood causes vampires to lose their control. No matter how old they are—or how civilized they want to be," he added darkly. "There was a war between our kind and fairies. I knew better, but I gave into temptation and tasted as I fought, for my vampire brother was with me, and I counted on him to save me if I got into trouble."

"Brother?" I asked.

"Yes," he smiled sincerely. "Godric is his name, and we traveled the world together for many years. But my lack of control almost led to _his_ death." He sighed. "Godric is younger than I, and I should have been watching over him, but he almost died saving me from myself when I became inebriated on Fae blood. I was captured by the Fae, but Godric negotiated with Loxias to save my life. Since then, your husband has been a friend to my brother and me."

"When was this?" I asked. I'd not heard of any recent battles in the area.

Mesehti closed his eyes. "Three hundred and fourteen years ago."

My eyes widened. "How old are you?"

He winked at me. "I am almost thirteen hundred years old."

I gasped. "Is that how you have control? Around fairies?" I asked desperately. "When will I have control around them? Can I see Loxias then?"

Mesehti looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Loxias is already quite old for a half-blood. He might be gone by the time you have enough control."

I stood up. "Then start teaching me control—now!" I demanded, motioning toward where I knew the human was. "I mean—please," I amended.

"Very well," My maker said, smiling at me fondly.

* * *

 **946 A.D. AMSTERDAM**

"You are Thalia," a male voice observed. The voice sounded kind.

I knew it was Godric even before I turned around and approached him.

"Yes," I said.

He gave me a slight smile, which was tinged in melancholy. "I was unhappy to hear that my brother met the true death."

I looked down; I was still mourning for my maker.

"I killed the one who took him from this world," I growled.

Godric reached out to lift up my chin. "Mesehti has sent me many messages over the years—telling me of you. I can see that he didn't exaggerate about your fierceness." He smiled at me. His face was gentle, but I knew from my maker that Godric could be brutal when needed.

"You will stay with me for a while," he half-asked and half-ordered, even as his eyes lit up. "I have a young child—Eric. You could help me to teach him—to train him."

I shook my head. "I came to you only because it was my maker's wish that I seek you out—if he ever met the true death," I said, my voice catching. "But I cannot stay; I have my own business to attend to."

Godric looked as me closely. "Mesehti conveyed that your children were killed by a creature named Warlow."

I nodded.

"I have heard that name," he said.

"What? You have? Where?" I asked desperately.

Godric sighed. "There is a story in the _Book of the Vampyr_. Tell me—have you heard of Lilith?"

"No," I said.

"Supposedly, she was the first of our kind. Supposedly, she made a child named Warlow."

"A creature calling himself Warlow killed my sons and my daughters during the _daytime_ ," I said, feeling liquid trail down my cheeks at the mention of my children. I ignored the thick, bloody tears.

Godric seemed to go into down-time for a moment as he contemplated.

"Perhaps, it is a different Warlow," he contemplated. "Perhaps not."

I gasped at Godric. My own maker—though I loved him very much—had never even allowed for the possibility that the murderer of my children could have been a vampire.

"Warlow is—and always has been pursued by certain elder fairies—though I do not know why," Godric said.

"Did Loxias tell you that?" I asked, speaking the name of my husband for the first time in almost a hundred years. My maker and I didn't speak of him after a while. Doing so had been too painful for me.

"No." Godric frowned. "Thalia. I hate to have to tell you this, but Loxias passed into the Summerlands not three months ago."

I fell to my knees, weeping almost uncontrollably.

I had still held out hope that I could, one day, be with him again.

"How? How do you know?" I asked.

"After your children were lost, Loxias made his way north," Godric said. "I saw him several times during the last century. The last time was about three years ago. He asked for news of you. He still loved you—you know?"

"What happened to him?" I asked, pushing tears from my cheeks.

"He diminished much after your children perished," he sighed. "Magic is a funny thing. It can keep us young for a long time—forever in the case of a vampire. But it cannot keep the mind or the spirit young. Loxias began looking for death. He fought in battles that he had no business being a part of—both human and supernatural battles. Eventually, he found a conflict he couldn't survive."

He placed a hand on my back as I continued to weep.

Losing my maker had gutted me. But losing Loxias made me feel as if I were losing my children—and my home—again.

Godric's touch was firm and comforting, but I hated showing my weaknesses. I'd endeavored to destroy all of my human emotions over the almost-century I'd spent with my maker.

Godric seemed to be able to read those thoughts from me. "I do not see your tears, Thalia. I see only your strength."

"I have only one reason for living now," I growled. "To kill Warlow."

Godric turned away from me and spoke. "Similar to you, my new child has but one purpose in the world—though I am trying to help him to see that he can find more in this life."

"What purpose?" I asked, happy that the focus of attention had moved away from me.

"Eric's human family was killed—by Weres, which were likely being led by a vampire," he said. "The last years of his human life were spent hunting them. The first years of his vampire life have been spent trying to convince me to hunt them." He turned around and looked at me. "I love my child and will help him with his quest as soon as he has full control over himself. And I shall help you with your quest, too; however, I feel that yours might be more difficult."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "Your help would be welcome."

"I hope that you will stay with Eric and me for a while," Godric reiterated.

I found that I wanted to.

"Does Eric know that my maker and you were brothers?" I asked.

"If he's as special as I think he is, then his blood will know," Godric said with a twinkle in his eye. "Shall we test him?"

* * *

 **1996, LONDON**

I loved Godric. After my maker, he had been the most important being in my life. But he was not infallible.

In my opinion, Nora was evidence of that.

She was a waste of his fucking blood!

Of course, I could admit that I'd become quite antisocial throughout the years, and I could tolerate very few.

I trusted even fewer.

Nora was not among them.

Still—I knew that Nora might serve a use for me.

I greeted her with a nod of acknowledgment. She was a Chancellor of the Authority, after all. I had begrudging respect for Roman Zimojic. However, I had very little interest in politics.

I was still focused on finding the elusive Warlow.

"Nora," I said.

"Thalia," she returned. "It has been ages."

"Of course it has been," I said. "We have very few common interests—or goals."

"We have one," Nora smiled. "Warlow."

"What do you know of him?" I growled.

"I know he was Lilith's child," Nora offered.

"Godric told me that information a millennia ago," I said, even as I started to leave the tavern where I'd met Nora.

The bitch was wasting my time.

"Did Warlow walk in the sun?" she asked.

I turned and went back over to her. "What do you know?" I asked with a growl.

She sneered. "Only rumors. Innuendo," she said in a superior-sounding tone. She'd always adopted that with me—as if I couldn't crush her within a second.

It was only my love for Godric which had stopped me from doing so when Nora had annoyed me over the years.

"Rumors? Innuendo?" I asked after a moment.

She shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm bothering. Godric asked me to look into Warlow now that I'm a member of the Authority, but I hardly see why he thinks _you_ are worth the effort."

I titled my head and looked at her. Even after all this time, she had no idea that we were "related." Eric—even as a "baby"—had been able to smell the similarities between my blood and his maker's blood. But Nora was too self-focused.

Oh—don't get me wrong. She'd done _some_ good over the years—for both humans and vampires. However, I'd always felt that her motives were ultimately her own ambitions.

Not that there was anything wrong with that—unless one tried to act "better."

As Nora most certainly did.

She sighed as if I were annoying her to the point of insanity.

I hoped I was.

"It's possible that Warlow was a fairy— _before_ he was turned," she told me. "And there are some reports that drinking fairy blood can help a vampire walk safely into the sun."

I acknowledged Nora's information with a nod. "Do you know if Warlow is still among the undead?" I asked.

"It is believed that he's been banished—to another realm," Nora responded. "It seems he has hunters other than yourself."

Again, I acknowledged what she was saying with a nod. Though I'd never run into Warlow, I _had_ come across one of his hunters before: the fairy, Niall Brigant.

Luckily—for him—he could cover his scent.

Nora smirked. "So—why are you hunting Warlow anyway. Are you one of the fanatics who wishes to cling to anything that is of Lilith?"  
"No," I said simply, before turning to leave. Being in Nora's presence was too annoying to endure for long.

"Warlow was last known to be in Louisiana," she said from behind me.

I turned to face her.

"Eric's territory," Nora smirked before zipping out of the room.

The bitch always did have to get to last word, even though taking it from an elder showed me her weaknesses.

* * *

 **1997 SHREVEPORT, LOUISIANA**

"Hello, Cousin," I said, sneaking up on the Viking.

He turned, showing me that he'd drawn both a short sword and a stake from his clothing.

Perhaps, I'd not snuck up on him after all.

"You are lucky I know your scent," he smirked.

"And you are lucky I didn't make an effort to truly conceal myself from you," I returned.

Eric put away his weapons, smiled, and then reached out to take my arm. He greeted me like he would have a warrior in his human time.

I liked that. It showed me that he respected me.

"I am pleased to see you, Thalia. Surprised and pleased. It has been 242 years," he added.

I nodded. "Yes. And now I am looking for a place to settle down."

He looked at me skeptically. "You are _not_ one to want to settle down."

I smirked at him. "And you are one who _does_."

Eric chuckled. "Guilty—as charged. But, Thalia, the vampires in my retinue are required to offer both tribute and service. If I offered you special treatment, I'd have to disclose our relationship to each other, _Cousin_."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I will pay your tribute and do what is required to be in your retinue in order to keep others from knowing of our affiliation."

After all, allowing too many others to know of your connections was one of the worst things a vampire could do.

Eric's eyes twinkled.

"You are going to enjoy my being in your service—aren't you Viking?" I asked with exasperation.

"Too much," he grinned.

I chuckled. Eric always was something of a "boy"—especially when we were relatively young vampires together, traveling with Godric and learning from him.

"Have you spoken with Godric lately?" I asked.

He shook his head and looked suddenly forlorn.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Godric has told me that he prefers that I not visit him for the time being," Eric reported. "Or call him. In fact, he told me that he will initiate all contact between us from now on—unless there is an emergency."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"He made it a command," the Viking whispered.

I pulled my mobile phone from my jacket pocket and dialed my "uncle's" number.

"Thalia," he said by way of greeting.

I saw Eric perk up at hearing his maker's voice, though the Viking remained silent.

"Godric," I greeted.

"Did Nora contact you? I asked that she do so if she discovered any new information about your foe," he said.

Eric's eyebrow raised in question, but I brushed his query aside with a wave of my hand. As much as I liked and respected Eric, he had his revenge quest and I had mine. I'd thought once about telling him about Warlow, but I'd stopped myself. Eric was the sort to get lost in helping me. He was "better" than I was in that regard. Perhaps to my discredit, I knew all about his own revenge quest, yet I didn't have any desire to be involved in it.

Call me selfish.

Call me single-minded.

Call me vampire.

Arguably, there was something "too human" still in Eric. Godric had recognized it a millennia ago. And I'd recognized it too. Thus, I'd never burdened the Viking with my toils, for he truly would have been weighed down by them—for he cared for me deeply.

And—for that—he would always have my loyalty.

"I'm with Eric," I said to Godric.

"Oh," he said.

There was silence for a moment. Eric was looking at the receiver of the phone as if it were the altar of Zeus.

Or—in his case—the altar of Odin.

"Tell my child that I will visit him soon," Godric said. "Within a fortnight."

Eric's face lit up.

"I hope to see you then too," I said.

"Of course," he responded before hanging up.

"Thank you," Eric told me. "Godric still contacts me and visits on occasion, but I fear that I've displeased him in some way." He shook his head. "I have tried to examine all that I've done over the past decades." He sighed. "I failed him in the 1940's. I worry that he has remained disappointed in me following that failure."

I approached one of the only two beings I trusted and touched his cheek. "We all fail our makers."

He shook his head. "I never met Mesehti, but I cannot imagine that you ever disappointed him."

"I did not save him from the one who killed him," I whispered. "He ordered me away when the danger came. He ensured that I would be unharmed. And—in so doing—he tied my hands."

Eric reached out and took my hand. "I would do the same to save Pam," he shared.

Not liking the emotion of the moment, I changed the subject. "How is Pamela?"

* * *

 **PRESENT DAY—20 MINUTES BEFORE SUNSET**

I cannot say that the phone woke me up because no "thing" had woken me up for more than a thousand years. In truth, at my advanced age, I had been awake for some time; however, it was my practice to stay in bed until I knew the sun had fully set.

Call me a purist.

Still—I so seldom received calls unless they were from Eric, so I answered the phone.

The voice greeting me oozed of acid and sarcasm. "Thalia."

However, I did not hang up. I knew the voice.

"Doctor," I said.

Ludwig knew more about me than I was comfortable to admit. A part of me hated her for that, but a bigger part of me counted on the doctor.

Yes—she'd become my "shrink" during the past decade or so, a fact that I'd been especially grateful for after Godric had met the sun. As a goblin, Ludwig was unpleasant and gruff. She had no compassion to speak of. In other words, she was the perfect confidant for me. And—I knew that my secrets were safe with her.

Thus, the little goblin knew about my past.

She knew about Loxias.

She knew about my children.

She knew about my desire to take revenge on a monster named Warlow.

"Where is your new child?" she asked me.

"Sarah Newlin has my blood, but she is _not_ my child," I growled.

My four children were now dust in the Grecian soil near Argos.

And, as a vampire, I'd never been tempted to make a child of my own.

In fact, if anyone other than Eric has asked me to change Sarah Newlin, I would have told him or her to fuck off! But my cousin had asked me to do the "job" because he trusted few others.

Of course, Eric had also "sweetened" the pot by offering to let me out of "Fangtasia service." In truth, he could have done it before—despite the questions that might have been raised if he let me off the hook—but he knew how much I hated doing my "time" at the club. And—he was still a fucking adolescent in some ways.

"Last night, Sarah Newlin woke up thirsty and winy," I said dispassionately. "She got TrueBlood and a silver-lined coffin as her birthday presents."

"It figures that Sarah Newlin would turn after only a day," she said sourly.

"The worst ones often do," I commented. Ludwig and I both knew well that a vampire could "cook" for up to three days before rising. And—indeed—the longer one "cooked," the more gifts he or she would have.

Of course, this had a lot to do with a maker's intentions and strength.

Unsurprisingly, I had put very little effort or blood into Sarah Newlin.

There was a moment of silence, and I found myself wondering why. Ludwig was known for sharing her words quickly and succinctly and—most often—rudely. She certainly wasn't one for angsty silences. It was as if the doctor was hesitant about something. I wondered if she could be wary about experimenting upon Sarah. But surely Ludwig didn't have any scruples about Sarah's inevitable true death! That woman had made her silver-lined coffin, and now she was most assuredly lying in it.

"Do not worry about Sarah's condition for your experiments, doctor," I offered. "Though her coffin is lined with silver, I placed a blanket inside so that the silver wouldn't touch her skin directly. Unless the foolish creature thrashed around—that is."

"The Newlin woman doesn't concern me—beyond her role as my guinea pig. If you had seen all of her and Burrell's plans, you would understand that her fate is much less cruel than the fates she would have made for _all_ vampires," Dr. Ludwig growled.

I smiled fondly. Ludwig wasn't exactly a "first do no harm" kind of physician. And she certainly wouldn't heal any creature she judged unworthy of her time and effort.

"Is the trial vaccine for Hep-V ready?" I asked. "Are you ready for me to bring Mrs. Newlin to you?"

"Not yet," Dr. Ludwig said. "I suggest she stay in her coffin for now so that she cannot do any more harm."

"Oh—she will," I grinned. "When I put her into it, I commanded her not to attempt to get out. And, of course, I locked it too."

Again, there was an odd silence on the line.

"Are you going to tell me why you called me before sunset, or should I guess?" I finally asked.

She sighed. "I don't know if I should tell you. I don't know if it would do you good or cause you harm."

I tensed. "Tell me."

Once again, she sighed. "Fine. Four half-Fae children were born in Area 5 last week. Today, a monster murdered one of the girls. The other three rallied and survived. I have just seen them; they will have emotional scars, but they are resilient."

"Monster," I growled.

"An impossible monster," Ludwig shared, her voice betraying a little fear. That in itself was telling. She continued, "A creature who _seemed_ to be vampire, but who attacked during the day—in the full light of the sun."

I was tingling with energy.

"The children are telepathic. One of them heard his name," the doctor said.

"His name," I repeated, knowing that I already knew it, but asking for confirmation from her all the same.

"Warlow," Dr. Ludwig replied.

"Where?" I demanded.

"Thalia," the doctor said firmly, "tell me something first. Would you rather protect the remaining fairy hybrids or kill Warlow?"

I was unable to speak for a moment as I considered the doctor's question.

The faces of my children came into my mind, and I saw them as vividly in my memories as I had the night I'd risen a vampire. I saw them alive and full of energy. And then I saw them dead. And then I imagined them alive again.

Aegis was fishing and teaching an inquisitive Cirio.

Iona was sitting on the bank of the stream, making a chain of flowers.

And—for the first time—I imagined what my unborn daughter would have looked like.

Loxias, like me, had dark hair. However, my eyes were blue, while his were brown. Our three eldest children had inherited his brown eyes. But I imagined my youngest looking at me with wide blue eyes just like my own.

" _Protect them_ ," I finally whispered, even though I was surprised by those words—and the truth of them. "I want to kill Warlow too, but no more children will die at his hands. _No more_."

There was a pause.

"It is more than just those fairy children who are in danger," Ludwig said.

"Who else?" I asked, becoming even tenser, given the news that Eric had entrusted me with just a few nights before.

He was getting married.

To a fairy-human hybrid.

A fairy-human hybrid who was—by a miracle of magic and fate—carrying _his_ children.

"I have keen senses," Ludwig said.

"And your point?" I asked impatiently.

"You and Northman? You do not share a maker, but you are of the same bloodline," she said matter-of-factly.

"Impressive senses, indeed," I returned. "Our makers shared a maker."

"All of the endangered children are from Bon Temps—and soon, all will be in the home of Sookie Stackhouse. Actually, that's wrong. She is Sookie _Northman_ now. As you likely know, Sookie is pregnant and will soon bear part-fairy sons. The four children attacked earlier today are the children of Andy Bellefleur and a flighty fairy named Maurella, who took off as soon as her daughters were born."

I growled at the thought of a mother abandoning her children.

"The children will be young women by the time you meet them," Ludwig informed.

"Their growth is accelerated, like Loxias's was," I commented, remembering what my husband had told me long ago. A Fae-bearing female would almost always impart her "light" upon a child, and that would speed up his or her early growth.

"Yes," Ludwig responded. "Sookie and Eric's children will grow quickly, for they were produced with her light and Fae magic."

No one left "living" except for Eric and—it was now clear—Dr. Ludwig knew of any "familial" connection between Eric and me, though Pam certainly suspected something. However, she had not been that familiar with Godric's scent, and she was not gifted with a sense of smell as acute as her maker's. Plus, she was still relatively young. However, I didn't think it would be much longer before she "sniffed out" that I was part of the same bloodline as she was, given the fact that Godric and Mesehti shared a maker. She already joked that Eric and I both smelled "old"; she also assumed that I was from Northern Europe, like Eric, and neither her maker nor I had corrected her on that assumption. And, though I did speak to Eric in Greek at times, I cannot recall Pam ever being present when I did.

It wasn't as if I wouldn't claim Pam as "family" either. I "liked" her—as much as I allowed myself to "like" anyone these days.

Though—granted—that wasn't a lot.

Nowadays, I just preferred my solitude.

However, I would give up that solitude to help to protect Eric's children—my kin. In fact—because they were part-Fae—I felt even closer to the situation. For, like Sookie, I'd once had Part-Fae children. However, unlike me, Sookie would not lose hers!

Of that I was determined!

Even if I had to die to save them!

"You said that all of the children would _soon_ be at Sookie and Eric's residence," I said, referring back to Ludwig's previous comment. "I assume that Eric and Sookie are returning, even now, from their wedding in Rhode Island?"

"I figured the Viking would have told you about that," Ludwig said. I could imagine her smirk in my mind.

He'd invited me, though he'd known that I would not accept.

Again, the doctor sighed. "Sookie called me earlier. It was from her that I heard of the attack, and she was the one who asked that I examine the Bellefleur girls. She also told me something else."

"What?" I asked.

"She blames herself for the attack on the girls."

"Why?" I asked.

"Warlow. He is here for her. Apparently, one of her ancestors promised him the first Fae-bearing woman from the Stackhouse bloodline. That—as it turns out—is Sookie."

I found myself growling—low and murderously. It seemed as if protecting the Bellefleur girls, watching over my cousin's sons, and finding Warlow all revolved around the same woman: Sookie Northman, my cousin's new wife.

"Where is Sookie?" I asked the doctor.

"I thought you'd never ask," she returned.

* * *

 **A/N: So this one was a long one! It was fun to develop a story for Thalia. Given that I transplanted her from the books to a series based upon the show, I felt like I had a lot of latitude about what I could do with her character. I wanted to try to explain why she's both so fierce and so "unpleasant." I always have figured that her story was a tragedy, and I thought that incorporating Warlow into it in this INNER-Lude would make sense. I hope that you enjoyed it! Lemmie know what you think if you have the time and inclination.**

 **We'll be back to Eric's POV night week.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	7. INNER-Lude 7--Nora

**INNER-Lude 7—Nora**

* * *

 **Headnote** : This "INNER-Lude" should be read after Chapter 29 of _From the Inside Out_. However, it begins about thirty minutes after Ian spoke with Eric in Chapter 28.

* * *

 **FOUR HOURS BEFORE SUNRISE, CALIFORNIA TIME**

"Where the bloody hell are you going? _Again_!" I asked Ian as he exited the Chancellors' private elevator into the parking garage.

"Wherever I please," he smirked.

I frowned at him. I knew I should never have accepted him as a Chancellor—Eric's recommendation or not. Ian Bowles was older than I was. And he was richer than sin—a businessman/playboy with "nothing" to do.

Nothing to do but fucking annoy me—that is!

Ian had jumped at the chance of being a Chancellor, but he'd already proven himself to be unreliable in my opinion.

"At this critical time for the New Authority," I said firmly, "we _all_ need to be available."

"I will be available," Ian said snidely, "by phone. Or text. Or email."

"Not good enough," I returned. "And I'm sure the others would agree."

"Are you?" he challenged. "Sure?"

"Actually, it wouldn't matter—would it?" I said back. "I am the Guardian of this Authority, and if you want to stay a member, you _will_ defer to my wishes."

"Will I?" he commented musingly.

"Yes," I returned firmly.

"Hmm. Perhaps, you should fire me?" he smirked. "Because I _know_ you won't be able to _order_ me."

I growled. "Where are you going? And why were you in Rhode Island?"

"A dear friend of mine was marrying his soul mate in Rhode Island," Ian grinned.

"Eric?" I asked, working hard to keep my countenance calm.

"Yes," he returned, his grin widening. "And let me tell you—his bride was glowing."

I shrugged, trying to feign indifference. "Well—I hear pregnant humans often 'glow.'"

"Ethereally," he added triumphantly.

The bugger.

"Well—good for Sookie. I don't supposeyour latest departure has anything to do with Eric and her again—does it?"

"It might," Ian responded, tilting his head as if to challenge me.

The cocky fucker!

"Recall that Eric _chose_ not to be one of us," I responded, approaching Ian with my hips swaying enticingly.

Ian didn't seem enticed.

"Eric chose his little corner of Louisiana and his human over us all," I continued.

"No," Ian said, looking at me with derision. "He chose love."

I scoffed. "The temporary kind. He will have to witness Sookie's death—unless she allows herself to be turned. And—what then? If he is her maker, it is only a matter of time before their relationship fizzles. And—if someone else turns her—what will he think about her inevitable _physical_ joining with her maker?" I smirked. "And their children? He will have to suffer their loss too."

Ian didn't immediately respond, so I went on, feeling the momentum of my argument. "From where I'm standing, it looks as though Sookie Stackhouse will bring nothing but prolonged pain to Eric. But I'm sure that his _true_ friends will be there for him—when it all comes apart."

Ian's eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "Have you no idea of how happy Eric is—now?"

"It is a happiness based on a false promise," I returned, through narrowed eyes of my own.

Ian shook his head critically. "Are you going to give me leave to go, Guardian? Or are you going to fire me? Or—perhaps—you want to try to stop me using force," he growled, his fangs clicking down.

I vowed right then and there that I _would_ be using force to end Ian Bowles—just as soon as possible. But in a face-to-face battle, he outmatched me.

"Don't be so dramatic," I said, maintaining a neutral tone with difficulty. "Your leave of absence is granted—just as long as you are available via phone and email in case there is an emergency. Having a pair of boots on the ground in Louisiana will be useful anyway; you will be able to make sure that the Burrell situation concludes as it should—given the fact that Eric will likely be distracted by his new bride and _human_ children," I added.

Ian nodded coldly.

"Feel free to take one of the Authority planes," I smiled.

"No, thank you," he responded. "I'd thought to store my private jet for a while, but I've rethought that idea, given the fact that you basically spied on my movements the last time I used a company jet," he sneered.

And why wouldn't I?! I was the fucking Guardian!

Despite my anger, I simply nodded. "Your choice, Ian. Do you know when you will be back? For planning purposes only," I added sarcastically.

"I'll keep you posted," he said simply before turning away and proceeding to a black Porsche which had been delivered to the compound earlier that day.

Talk about ostentatious!

Before he'd even left the parking garage, I had zipped back into the building. Ian might have been good about being close-lipped, but Jessica Hamby was inexperienced and naïve, though I figured she would turn out to be the perfect Authority receptionist.

She would immediately put human visitors at ease, and she wouldn't ask too many questions about what the "grown-ups" were doing.

* * *

 **THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

I had to give Jessica some credit. It had taken me about ten minutes to "warm her up" before she began gushing about Eric and Sookie's wedding— _and_ pledging!

I scoffed as I made my travel arrangements.

Eric had gone too far.

To bond with the human was one thing. I had accepted that. After all, her blood was part-fairy, and my brother had always been an opportunist.

To have children with Sookie? Again, I'd forced myself to accept that. Eric hadn't exactly chosen to get Sookie pregnant. No. He couldn't have known that she would "trap" him in that way.

I'd even offered my verbal "support" for both the bonding and the parenting. After all, they were simply phases that Eric was going through. Clearly, he was trying to reclaim some humanity—or some shit like that.

But it wouldn't last.

As for a human marriage with her? Even _that_ I could accept. Human marriage was finite. In fact, in modern society, it was fleeting at best, lasting just long enough for one of the partners to dream up a reason for getting a divorce.

I figured that—at most—Eric would last a year with Sookie before he tired of her. The presence of the children might extend his time with her by another year, but then I figured he'd work his way back to me—as he always had before.

As he _would_ again!

My brother was right that we never stayed together for very long, but I truly wasn't willing to fathom the notion that he wouldn't be available to me when I _did_ need him. After all, I'd always made myself available to him when he needed me.

Case in point: when his new human wife had rejected him less than a month ago!

She wasn't worthy of him in my eyes— _not at all_!

That's what made his pledging with her so fucking difficult for me to swallow! A pledging was a sacred act!

A _vampire_ act!

Moreover, it was an act that I had seen occurring between Eric and myself within the next decade or two. Or three. It would take him that long to accept being a king and to turn into one of the most powerful American monarchs. After all, anything that Eric focused his energy upon had always flourished.

As Guardian, I could certainly align myself with a powerful king. Plus, I felt that Godric would have celebrated such a connection between Eric and me. And, once we were pledged, then Eric would be mine—just as I would be his.

Our arrangement would then be formalized for at least a century. And that thought made me feel "safe" in a way I wanted to feel all the time.

Obviously, I wouldn't require Eric to stop fucking others if we were bonded; we were vampires, after all! However, I did want his loyalty. And I wanted his focus— _on me_!

But now Eric had ruined the purity of my dream; he had desecrated the sacred rite of pledging by bringing the mostly human woman into it! And that I would _not_ allow! Eric simply needed to be taught that such things weren't done, and—even though I no longer followed the teachings of Lilith—I still believed that vampire rites were sacrosanct and should be practiced _only_ by vampires. And I knew that even my maker would have agreed with me on that point!

My phone beeped, and I looked down to see that my assistant had finalized my travel arrangements. I would be leaving for the airport in twenty minutes. Conveniently, General Michaels had requested a meeting with me for the next night.

And he happened to be in New Orleans.

Who was I to turn down a meeting with our new ally in the human government?

In fact, my meeting with the general was the "official" excuse for my travel.

However, that was not the main reason why I was going back to Louisiana. No—I planned to ensure that my brother saw sense and reason—even if I had to use "tough love" to do it. He needed to recognize that human life was limited, finite.

On the contrary, what he and I had—and what we _would_ continue to have in the future—was as infinite as the life spans of the greatest and oldest vampires in history. In fact, if we were together, I doubted that anything could kill us.

Hell! Not even Lilith had managed!

I hurriedly packed a bag with enough clothing for several nights and then opened the trunk in which I'd personally packed the oldest and most important texts which had been housed in Roman's library. I took out the two I wanted and then went to meet the limo waiting for me.

* * *

I made it to my plane in plenty of time for it to take off on schedule; it was still two hours before dawn (California time), but I knew that—as I flew east—I would sense dawn coming toward me. Still, I figured I would have an hour or so before I would feel compelled to enter my coffin, and, like all Authority aircraft, the one I was in was light-tight by design—except for the cockpit, of course. But the cockpit door stayed locked throughout all flights—another safety measure Roman had once insisted upon.

As would be expected, given my new post, several vampire guards would be accompanying me on my trip. I made sure to choose those whom I knew were loyal to me. In addition, three Were guards would guard us during the daytime. Again, I was careful to choose only those whom I trusted from before.

I settled into a comfortable seat near the back of the plane and took out the first volume I'd brought with me. It was basically an encyclopedia of all types of creatures ever encountered by vampires. Generally preferring more "mystical" reading, I'd rarely used the reference book, but now I had need of it. I opened it up to the section on fairies.

I quickly skimmed the information I knew about.

There were four kinds of fairies, each corresponding to one of the four elements, which were apparently as common in the fairy realm as they were in the human one.

According to myth, the four types of Fae evolved based upon their geographic regions of origin in the fairy realm, for their bodies literally absorbed the magic from their world.

I read more carefully about the different "gifts" that fairies could have. The main one discussed was a "light power" which would manifest as circular orbs shot from the palms. The more magical the fairy, the stronger the light.

Over time, different kinds of light had evolved among the Fae.

The white kind seemed to be the most common. It was a weapon, which could stun an enemy. However, with continued use, it could also kill.

A step up from the white light—at least in my opinion—was a red light. That kind was much more lethal. If honed, it could kill with a single blast.

Rarer to manifest in fairies were other "colors" of light.

Silver light could be used to banish a foe to another realm. This kind of light often took a group of fairies to accomplish; however, some individual fairies had learned how to produce such a light through discipline and training. Or age.

It seemed that—like vampires—a fairy's power grew over time.

An emerald green light, according to the book, could be used to heal.

A light blue light could be used to strengthen another fairy's gifts.

"Handy," I said to myself.

A yellow light was able to control the workings of water.

An orange light could manipulate the dust and the air to create tiny tornado-like phenomena which could be used to disorient or even kill enemies—if the fairy was strong enough.

Finally, there was a kind of light that was described as "dynamic" in nature—"multicolored." It was the rarest of all. This kind of light was possessed by only the most powerful of fairy families. To the "uneducated" eye, it looked like "regular" white light, and it was often confused as such since the user most often employed the light to incapacitate or stun an enemy. However, the light was "cunning" according to the description. Based on the purpose of the user, the light could alter, taking on another hue. Fairies who possessed this kind of light could do many things with it depending upon the situation.

After the various forms of light were outlined, a few other fairy gifts were mentioned in the encyclopedia. It seemed that telepathy was common among half-bloods or more. I scoffed. Sookie Stackhouse was only one-eighth fairy. Likely, she exaggerated the power of her gift. Still—she'd somehow bred with my brother. I scoured the entry for information on that phenomenon, but there was nothing beyond the fact that a fairy woman could mate with a human man by "sharing her light." This would produce children who had many fairy traits.

By contrast, if a fairy male bred with a human, the results were more varied. Often, the fairy spark was not passed along past the second generation. I frowned. I had no idea whether Sookie got her fairy genes from her mother or her father.

I continued reading, and the entry transitioned from fairy gifts to history.

I already knew that fairies were a group originally from another realm; however, I hadn't known that it was a civil war in their own realm which had prompted some fairies to settle on earth over the years. And I certainly hadn't known that there had been full-fledged fairy colonies on earth even when the human race was in its infancy!

In fact, the Fae were thought to have dwelt in the human realm as early as the first vampires.

"I had no idea they'd been here so long," I mused to myself before reading on.

The encyclopedia described the Fae as helping humanity evolve past the hunting and gathering phase. The Fae taught humans agriculture. They also taught them a fair amount of civility.

I chuckled, finding it funny that the Fae had helped to "mother" humanity.

Of course, eventually, the vampire population had risen, and we discovered fairies. The entry described how vampires and fairies had fought several large battles over the years. However, treaties were impossible for many vampires to keep, given the enticing scent of the Fae.

Still, several pockets of fairies had been able to survive in refuges hidden by magic and existing somewhere between the human realm and the fairy one. From these refuges, fairies could travel freely from realm to realm. And vampires could not find them.

Thus, the entire species had fallen into myth, and most vampires had believed them to be make-believe. Only the eldest of vampires—and those with access to books such as the one in my hands—were aware of the "children of the light."

I gasped as I read that phrase.

"Children of the light," I said to myself as I pulled out the second volume I'd brought with me: the _Book of the Vampyr_.

The ancient text mentioned the name Warlow two times. The first one was attached to the myth of Lilith itself. The text mentioned that Warlow was a "child of the light" and that he had become one of Lilith's children. Thus, he was generally recognized as being one of the earliest vampires. "Child of the light" had been translated to mean "human," given the fact that vampires could not exist in the sunlight.

"Child of the light," I whispered. "Fairies?" I asked myself.

Another passage in the book claimed that a "child of the light" had caused Lilith to burn in the sunlight when he'd destroyed part of the cave she'd been sheltering in. Again, that being had been thought to be a human.

That passage also claimed that the _loyal_ children of Lilith had collected her blood—which had not perished when her body had turned to ash—into a holy vessel. According to the bible, the last remaining "once-human" child of Lilith had eventually given the vessel to the first Guardian.

"Once-human," I gasped.

I took an unnecessary breath and closed my eyes, even as I resisted the impulse to think of Lilith as anything other than a false god. Still—no matter how my views of her had changed—I certainly believed that she had been a _real_ being, both in history and in the recent past. Eric had assured me that she'd been destroyed along with Compton. Because of what she'd done to Godric, I hoped that was the case.

I looked back down at the text. Given the fact that the phrase, "child of light," was used _only_ to describe Warlow and then, later, to describe Lilith's killer, I hypothesized that they were one in the same person.

It also stood to reason that "child of light" could mean something other than "human," since other words and phrases had been used to indicate humans in the vampire bible.

Could Warlow have been a fairy before Lilith turned him? Could it be that he was the one who caused Lilith's "first" death? Could it be that the word "loyal" had been used to describe the children of Lilith who had collected her remains because one of her children had been disloyal? Could it be that this child was still a "child of light?"

I turned forward in the _Book of the Vampyr_. A section called the "Tome of Pythia" had been written by a prophetess about 1500 years before. The compilers of the book claimed that the prophetess was an ancient, who had been turned into a vampire by Sebastian, who was Lilith's most beloved child. According to lore, the prophetess had been an Oracle of Delphi before her turning. However, after she'd written the sum of her visions, she'd disappeared.

Many had sought her since then, but she'd not been found. Legend had it that she had despised being a vampire, for it had sentenced her to an eternity of enduring her visions. Most believed that—once her maker died—she met the sun. Others posited that she was in exile somewhere—driven mad by her visions but kept alive by a human family sworn by blood to protect her.

I, for one, had never really cared about her fate.

Many years before, the section written by Pythia had been discounted, for—though her initial prophesies had all come true—the latter ones had become less and less accurate. Given the fact that the prophetess herself had written a preface of sorts which described the future—especially the long-away future—as a pond that could ripple unexpectedly, the veracity of her later prophesies was highly suspect. Thus, the section she'd written had stopped being "required reading," even for the most devout followers of Lilith.

In fact, neither the "common" version of the _Book of the Vampyr_ , nor the more recent published copies of the _Book of Lilith_ contained Pythia's section at all!

However, I'd been no ordinary follower, and I'd devoured every word of the original text, which was how I knew that the Prophetess had mentioned a person named Warlow. According to the passage, Warlow would— _in the future_ —lead Lilith into the sun and also save vampires from extermination. Salome and I had studied the passage for months. First of all, it seemed to confirm that Lilith could be brought back into existence, something we both dreamed of making happen. However, the passage also listed a seeming threat to her—a threat which would, ironically, save all vampires.

Eventually, Salome and I had begun to interpret the passage differently, however. Believing that all of Lilith's children had been lost to time, we discounted the name Warlow as a coincidence. However, ironically, we posited that the prophesized Warlow might be a fairy, who would "lead" Lilith into the sun because a fairy's blood could help a vampire walk in the sunlight. We hypothesized that it would be the combination of Warlow and Lilith—maybe inhabiting one body—who would save vampire-kind.

That interpretation had fit the narrative we'd wanted to believe, of course. For it returned Lilith to us.

What had actually happened had been different— _much_ different.

However, that didn't mean that the prophetess's vision had no validity.

What if the Warlow who was Lilith's child was the same one destined to somehow save vampires? What if that Warlow was also the same one mentioned by both Jason Stackhouse— _and_ Jessica Hamby.

Indeed, Jessica had made an offhanded comment that Ian had to go out of town to help Eric and Sookie deal with the "Warlow thing."

And I knew from my interactions with Jason Stackhouse that Warlow was "after his sister."

Perhaps, Warlow had made his presence known at long last!

I felt the sun pulling at me from the east and put away my books before climbing into my coffin and locking it from the inside.

"Warlow," I whispered.

All roads seemed to lead to him. What if I could help him take Sookie? If I did, he would owe me a favor—if it ever did become necessary for him to "save vampire-kind" as the _Book of the Vampyr_ had suggested.

Maybe I could even arrange things so that Warlow could take Sookie _before_ she had the brats. That would free Eric from them all!

It was that wonderful thought that put a smile onto my face as I succumbed to my day-death.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi! First of all, I have to say that I'm not planning to bring the A.P. into his tale; however, I wanted to introduce some of the ideas that actually took place in Season 6 as a "possible future" once written about by the A.P. However, that's not what happened in this story, so the future won't be the same. The important thing is that Nora now believes that Warlow could be the key to the survival of the vampire race (Yes—she is exchanging one "crazy" belief system for another: Lilith for Warlow.). And it doesn't hurt that she thinks that Warlow could be a means to an end when it comes to Sookie too.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	8. INNER-Lude 8--Amelia

**INNER-Lude 8—Amelia**

 **A/N: This INNER-Lude should be read after INNER-Lude 7-Nora**

I sighed contentedly as I breathed in the fresh air from the open car window. A part of me missed the saltier scent of the sea breeze in New Orleans, but the air right on the gulf was almost too "full" for me.

Too complicated.

Perhaps that was because my father was an expert in blowing hot air in my direction—even if I was convinced that it was as full of love as it was of disapproval. However, I'd learned that both could be oppressive. Thankfully, the weight of the air he blew from New Orleans didn't affect me in Shreveport as much as it had when I was living in the same city as he did.

I took another deep breath to keep myself centered, focused, and calm. Unfortunately, my father had not made it a mystery that he hated almost every step I'd taken during the last few years of my life. In many ways I'd stifled my true self until I read a letter that my mother had written for me right before she'd died, for, up until then, I'd tried to be the daughter my father wanted me to be.

Thus, when my father blamed my mother for my transformations, he was partly right.

My father, Copley Carmichael, and my mother, Esmerelda Broadway, had _not_ been compatible—not for the long term—but I do believe that they truly loved each other. And—at least for my father—that love had never died. They'd met when they were both at college—him for a business degree and her for an art history degree. He'd finished both his bachelor's and master's degrees before she decided to quit college. After that, he'd supported her in her endeavor to become a full-time sculptress and even bought her a studio as an engagement present, much to the horror of his well-to-do parents.

They were "old money"—what some might call "bona fide."

To me, they'd always seemed like _bona fide_ snobs!

Needless to say, my paternal grandparents were more mortified by the thought of their son marrying my mother than they were by the fact that he'd invested in her "art," though that didn't stop them from thinking that her art was extremely "odd" and "archaic-looking." Of course, I couldn't blame them for that. In truth, my mother didn't create art for its own sake; she used her sculptures as a medium for her greater interest: witchcraft.

For, like me, my mother had been a natural witch.

She would place spells in her sculptures. The pieces were meant to bring protection, prosperity, luck, etc.—whatever the customer was after, as long as the request wasn't for black magic. And my mother was actually quite good at her craft. In fact, that's how Octavia Fant learned about her, and—after a while—my mother and she developed a friendship.

Or a mutual respect at the very least.

Octavia would refer customers my mother's way, and those believers in magic would commission pieces from her.

However, as with many things, my mother eventually became bored with sculpting her "little charms." And she turned her focus onto motherhood—at least for a little while.

Unfortunately, she left me and my father the week before my fourth birthday—having become bored with us too. Though I'd received some random cards and gifts from her over the years, she didn't really return into my life until twelve years later—after she learned that she was dying.

It was safe to say that—despite her character flaws—my mother was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Even as cancer was slowly making her disappear, she retained a measure of that beauty, but the pictures of her that my father had hidden away in the family attic—the ones he didn't think I knew about—were truly amazing! Esmerelda Broadway could have easily been a model—with her jet-black hair, her captivating dark blue eyes, her snowy complexion, her naturally blood-red lips, her innate pink blush, and her lithe 5'10" body. She was the embodiment of Snow White's _hotter_ big sister! From her, I inherited only her light complexion. Sadly, I took mostly after my father when it came to looks.

I had mousy brown hair—just like him.

I had dark brown eyes—just like him.

I was shorter than average—just like him.

And he'd always wanted for me to be just like him in other ways too. For a long time, I'd wanted that too.

Or, at least, I'd tried to convince myself that I did.

Oddly enough, he and my mother had never divorced. His parents had made sure that my mother signed a prenuptial agreement before she and my father married. My mother had not hesitated, and my father had seen the document as a nonissue since they were "going to be in love forever."

When my mother left him, my father _could_ have been a complete bastard and divorced her for abandonment. But he didn't. I'd later learned that, about once a year, she would send him a letter asking for money, and he would always send her a generous amount.

Esmerelda Broadway was a restless spirit—always traveling and wanting to learn more about "the craft." My father had loved her enough to "let her go." And, in fact—as the old saying went—she _did_ return to him when she could no longer take care of herself.

When she'd shown up out of the blue, I'd spent a good deal of time being bitter at her on his behalf since he couldn't muster anything but love for her. In fact, as soon as she'd told us that she had inoperable cancer, my father insisted that she move in with us so that he could take care of her.

And he did take care of her.

In fact, he did more than that. He made sure that she had everything she wanted—anything that made her happier or more comfortable. He made sure that all the best doctors cared for her. He "willed" me to offer her a second chance at being a mother—not wanting any of us to have any regrets.

Thus, during the last four months of her life when she lived with us, I got to know Esmerelda Broadway for the first time. And, oddly enough, she seemed to sense who I was deep down inside—in a way that no one ever had.

Not even my father.

She quickly accepted the person that she "sensed" inside of me too. Perhaps even odder was the fact that I never really viewed her as my mother. I had nannies who'd shown me more maternal care than she ever did. But I _did_ come to treasure Esmerelda as a friend in the few months that I knew her.

By contrast, my father had always been an excellent parent. He made sure that I had everything I needed—more than I needed, in fact—and hardly a day went by as I grew up when he didn't tell me that he loved me. He encouraged me to try out a variety of activities when I was young, and he supported the ones that I was interested in pursuing. He was at every piano recital. Every equestrian event. Every basketball game. Every science fair.

The only interest that I kept from him was the one that seemed to be the most "natural" part of me: witchcraft. I knew from an early age that my father believed that my mother's "nature" was what had caused her to leave us. And I didn't want him to worry about losing me too. So I would secretly check out books on the subjects of witches and magic, and eventually I talked my nanny into taking me to magic shops— _without_ telling my father.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say that my nanny had been the first "victim" of my magic. I'd tried to do a simple influencing spell, but my nanny had basically become my puppet for a few days. Thankfully, my mother's old friend, Octavia, was the proprietress of one of the shops I visited during that time. She'd recognized my name and had helped me release my nanny from my spell.

She'd been helping me with my gift—and with how to control it—ever since.

Coincidentally, my first _imperfect_ foray into witchcraft had come only one month before my mother showed up. Esmerelda had recognized the gift she'd passed down to me at once, though she didn't mention it to my father. She was too weak to help me hone my craft—though she did offer me some advice and told me where I could find the stockpile of ingredients and spell books that she'd collected during her travels. She asked only that I share the information and resources with Octavia, which was something I would have done anyway.

Indeed, it had been nice to have a witch for a mother/friend, though our friendship lasted for less than half a year before the cancer killed her. Still, she seemed to intrinsically "know" things about me that my father, with whom I was much closer, didn't recognize.

That sad irony didn't really surprise me.

Copley Carmichael was a man who had been hurt very deeply by the woman he loved. Yet he'd continued to love her. He was a father who wanted the best for his daughter, and—probably because of how badly he'd been hurt by the woman who'd given birth to me—he "needed" me to follow his version of what was "best" for my life. But I ended up following in my mother's footsteps instead.

And that meant that I ended up hurting him.

I frowned sadly.

It was my mother who first guessed that I was bisexual. There was never a question that she accepted me as I was. Hell! She was even envious of me, telling me that she wished that she could have been like me—so that she'd been "less restricted" in her choices of bedfellows.

I hadn't needed to hear that from her!

Sadly, my father's reaction when I finally came "out" to him when I was seventeen—almost a year and a half after I'd read my mother's letter, in which she'd encouraged me to "be who I was meant to be"—was quite different.

In fact, that was the day when I first heard my father speak unkind words about Esmerelda. Having become a more conservative man over the years, he cursed my mother, blaming her for somehow causing me to "turn into a lesbian."

And, in that moment, my relationship with my father irrevocably—and sadly—changed.

I realized that, although my father had tried his best to love me unconditionally, he didn't. He wanted me to be the young woman he envisioned in _his_ mind—not the person I really was.

I had disappointed him.

But we were even. He had disappointed me too—for the first time.

Sadly, we continued to disappoint each other. Only a month after I told him I was bisexual, I found the courage to tell him that I didn't want to follow in his footsteps and become the "heir" to the Carmichaels' business empire. In fact, I wanted to major in chemistry rather than business. He'd used guilt to pressure me to do a double major—to get a degree in business "to fall back on"—and he even threatened to cut me out of his life if I didn't.

Grieving for one parent already, I spent two years being "good" before I dropped the business major. Simply put, slugging through the business classes was making me miserable. As a donor to the university's business school, my father found out that I'd "broken our deal" quickly. And he stopped paying my tuition, so I had to drop out of college, which meant that I was also without a home since I'd been living in the dorms.

However, I didn't move back home with my tail between my legs as my father had expected me to. Using the little bit of money that my mother had left me, I got an apartment. And then I found a job. Actually, I found two part-time jobs: one as a waitress and one as a cashier at Octavia's magic shop.

And—in another act of rebellion—I legally changed my name to Amelia Broadway in order to hurt my father, who had hurt me because of his lack of acceptance.

I could admit that we were both being immature assholes by that time.

I took another deep breath of the cool air as I turned from one county road to another on my way to Bon Temps.

Eventually, my father had tracked me down, despite my new name, and he begged for a reconciliation. In tears, he told me he'd been an ass, and he offered to fund the rest of my college career—even if I didn't want to pick up the business major again. I took him up on his offer and was able to finish my chemistry major within a year.

After my graduation, my father actually bought the apartment complex where I had been living and said he'd let me stay there rent free _if_ I managed the small complex for him while I was searching for a job in my "chosen field." He even paid me a small salary. It wasn't hard to tell that he was trying to get me to "magically" discover that I wanted to be a businesswoman after all. However, despite my father's thinly veiled intentions, I was glad that our relationship was good again. So, again, I took him up on his offer. The work was easy, and I didn't mind it. I actually did such a good job that he asked me to manage another small property he owned. Oh—it wasn't difficult to figure out that he eventually wanted to make me more and more a part of his world, but—again—I didn't mind. I was able to quit my waitressing job and focus even more of my energy on the "craft" because of my father's "generosity."

Of course, my father didn't know that I'd gotten my chemistry degree only because I wanted to be a better witch—not because I hoped to go into pharmaceuticals or something.

But eventually, he figured this out. Sadly, my father and my détente ended when a private detective he hired found out that—although I was no longer "officially" employed by Octavia—I was spending all of my free time learning from her and using my chemistry degree in the pursuit of "hocus pocus," as he called the craft. Needless to say, my father wasn't thrilled that my mom's influence had rubbed off on me even more than he'd feared. He even threatened to take away my job and apartment so that I wouldn't be able to continue with my "foolishness."

In a rage, I told him that he was welcome to both!

Yes. Once again we disappointed each other.

I moved into the small apartment above Octavia's magic shop the next day. Room and board in exchange for work and a full-time apprenticeship seemed like a good arrangement to me! And that's how I'd spent most of the last three years of my life.

However—eventually—my dad had begged for my forgiveness again, accepting a little more of my true self this time, though he still didn't agree with my choices.

He wanted me safe and secure with a "good marriage" and 2.3 kids—grandkids for him. But, in his defense, he also wanted me to be happy. He just couldn't stop himself from wishing that _his_ conception of my happiness would eventually match the reality of my life.

I knew it never would. And that made me sad for him.

Meanwhile, I'd thrived under Octavia's tutelage—and eventually in my personal life too.

Living at the magic shop, I served after-hours customers (which were always Supes), and that was how I met Maria-Star. She'd been visiting a friend in New Orleans, and they came into the shop to see if we had anything that could cause impotence for a man. Generally, the opposite was requested, so her query caught my interest even before I looked up to see her.

After that, I had been lost.

I'd heard about love at first sight, and—as a witch—I understood that, when real, the concept was tied to the natural magic that existed within the universe. The intrinsic magic in one's body could—and would—react to the elements within another person's body if those elements were truly compatible.

The concept of soul mates had originated so that "remarkable" examples of compatibility could be explained in an understandable way to humans. Finding one's true soul mate was actually an extremely rare thing, but I hadn't resisted my pull to Maria-Star, and—soon enough—I was looking for any excuse to visit her in Shreveport.

 _After_ I'd learned about why she'd wanted the impotence spell—that is.

As it had turned out, Maria-Star had been trying to "discourage" the packmaster of the pack she'd recently left because he'd tried to rape her! I'd made certain to add extra potency to the spell I'd cooked up so that the bastard's dick would become an uncomfortable "innie" any time he saw Maria-Star!

Even more skeptical about concepts like "true love" than I, Maria-Star pretended not to be as enamored with me as I was with her during the first couple of weeks we were together. However—after I stayed with her during the time that it took me to deal with the aftermath of the Marnie Stonebrook situation for Octavia—Maria-Star didn't want me to leave her home. And I couldn't have been happier to stay in _our_ home.

My father, sadly, didn't approve when I'd told him that I'd fallen in love with a woman; he'd been holding out hope that the male-loving part of my "bi"-side would win out. However, we still spoke on the phone a few times a week, and we continued to "try to get along" with one another. I knew he loved me, but it was taking him more time than I'd hoped it would take him to realize that the woman he'd wanted me to be just wasn't the one that I was. Still—I had faith in him. I knew that the man who'd raised me with such care and kindness—the one who had held the hand of his estranged wife through the most harrowing days of her disease—would come around. He was just afraid of losing me.

And I wasn't going to let that happen—even if it hurt to keep him.

Of course, that resolution didn't make dealing with him any less difficult at times. He had "tried" to understand why I'd felt the need to move in with Maria-Star; however, he didn't seem anxious to meet her any time soon even though I mentioned wanting to make the introduction whenever we spoke. Truthfully, Maria-Star didn't seem that anxious to meet him either, so I figured it would be best to wait for a while—although I missed him, despite the guilt trips he inadvertently laid upon me.

And—yes—despite the hot air he blew in my general direction.

Nowadays, I tried to let it warm me—instead of smother me.

Of course, I hadn't wanted to "freeload" off of Maria-Star. Since Octavia had enough confidence in my skills to outsource the work she had in Northern Louisiana to me, my income was steadily increasing, and I knew I'd soon be getting referrals from satisfied customers. I'd even been thinking about opening a shop in Shreveport—a "satellite" of Octavia's magic shop in New Orleans.

On the other hand, Maria-Star had been _unhappily_ unemployed for several weeks, so she'd been pleased to get a call to become a guard for Area 5's Sheriff and the current vampire King of Louisiana, Eric Northman. Pretty much all Supernaturals in the state had been relieved to hear that King Bill had been replaced—or "Mr. Bill" as he was nicknamed in countless disparaging comics. Yep—Supes had their own version of the "funny pages," and the publication could be scathing! In my opinion, Mr. Bill had deserved the ire of the Supe cartoonists, however. After all, he'd been the one who'd let the Marnie situation get out of hand because he'd been too stupid to call in Octavia immediately!

The idiot had had three fucking numbers for her!

Her home.

Her cell.

Her shop!

And Octavia had even tried to initiate a working relationship with the new king almost as soon as his succession of Sophie-Anne Leclerq had been announced. Sophie-Anne had certainly been imperfect, but she'd understood the benefits—the necessity—of having the state's most powerful witch on her speed dial; however, Mr. Bill had seemed to lack the wisdom to understand that.

The fact that he'd not called Octavia when he'd first learned that Marie was being possessed by a necromancer—a witch who could control the dead—was unconscionable in my opinion! Vampires had died because of Mr. Bill's incompetence!

I grunted in my anger, but used my trusty David Bowie CD to calm me down.

And by the time I'd turned onto Hummingbird Lane, following the directions Maria-Star had given me, I was smiling to myself. I was happy to be called in to make wards for the new king. Both Octavia and I had been excited about the prospect of reestablishing a working relationship with Louisiana's vampire monarch, given the fact that it could mean more income for the working witches of the state. Undeniably, Mr. Bill's tenure had led to the tightening of many an honest witch's belt.

Octavia had let me know that Eric Northman had called her to check "my references" and to promise that I'd be given unlimited resources to get anything I needed. The call to my mentor demonstrated that King Eric was professional and respected Octavia's opinion. The call from my beloved Maria-Star had demonstrated that King Eric was ready, willing, and able to accept help from "non-vampires."

And female ones at that.

A positive sign—to say the least.

I grinned as an old, but restored, farmhouse came into view. I couldn't help myself. Wards were my favorite kinds of spells to construct because they required creativity and needed to be "shaped" to fit the home's occupants. Moreover, I had another good reason to smile; my beloved was sitting on the porch waiting for me. She had a familiar smirk on her beautiful face as if she were in the process of undressing me with her eyes as I approached her and another Were—a male—whom I could immediately tell was in charge.

Some people just had that aura of "don't fucking mess with me" about them. Octavia had the same aura.

And I was smart enough to respect it immediately.

"Based on _this_ one's reaction, I don't need to ask if you're Amelia," the male Were commented as he gestured toward my mate before looking at her. "You said your Amelia was cute, but you didn't tell me that I might consider switching sides for her," he added.

Maria-Star growled, making goosebumps rise up on my skin. I could have guessed that the man was joking even if my infallible "gaydar" hadn't already told me that he would never "switch sides."

I approached the porch and gave Maria-Star a quick kiss on the lips before closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. I could smell magic in the air, but there was nothing human about it.

It emanated from the life forces of the creatures on the property.

It was Were.

It was vampire.

It was fairy.

"Fairy?" I asked in awe.

"I was ordered not to mention that on the phone," Maria-Star said, gesturing toward the male Were.

"I'm Brady, by the way," he smiled and stretched out his hand for me to shake.

I tilted my head as I took it. "You're a good man," I commented.

"Debatable," he said with a glint in his eye.

"He's a sarcastic ass," Maria-Star corrected, hitting his arm as if he were her brother.

I chuckled. It was nice to see my beloved so comfortable among others. And so soon. "So are you," I reminded.

As I inhaled again, I felt as if my mind were being tapped upon. "Telepaths?" I asked as I looked at the house with awe.

"Yep," Brady answered. "There are five in there right now."

"Five!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"Seven," corrected a pregnant woman who stepped out onto the porch. She extended her hand to me. "I'm Sookie Northman, but call me Sookie, and Brady is forgetting that the boys are telepaths too." She rubbed her protruding belly. "They seem to like you—by the way—if their kicking is any indication."

I smiled widely. "I had no idea this job was going to be so interesting and fun!" I enthused.

"So you're Maria-Star's girlfriend?" Sookie asked.

I nodded.

She smiled widely. "I can't thank either of you two enough for coming to help." She made a gesture with her hand. "Oh—I know you're gettin' paid and all, but that doesn't matter. You're both sweet to help us on such short notice," she added, patting Maria-Star's arm.

My girlfriend actually accepted the affectionate gesture without her usual discomfort of "strangers" and smiled back at Sookie. I might have been jealous if I hadn't sensed that Sookie Northman had a way about her that could likely put any Supe at ease.

Just then, Maria-Star and Brady turned their heads toward the road, and a few seconds later, two more Weres thundered onto the porch. I recognized one of them as Maria-Star's friend, Tray Dawson. In the next second, a fairy—clearly full-blooded—popped in front of us.

"Mustapha!" Brady said to the second Were as he handed him a weapon.

Sookie was the first to relax. "It's just Lafayette—bringing the lunches from Merlotte's that Sam promised yesterday. And an apology for me," she sniffled a little.

"Stay!" Brady ordered as he looked at Sookie sternly. "You are lucky I'm even letting you out onto the porch."

Sookie giggled, but nodded obediently, even as she stroked her belly protectively.

I had a feeling that Sookie was more capable of damage than even the Alpha Were I'd just met.

Brady muttered something about Sookie's stubbornness and about how he'd never have let her out at all if his other men hadn't already arrived to patrol the property's borders. Meanwhile, Tray confirmed my suspicions as he commented that Sookie could probably take care of Warlow better than any one of them with her badass "light" even as he jogged down to help Lafayette with what seemed to be two dozen bags.

The group bustled as it got the food inside and set up, though I stayed relatively quiet as I watched everyone's interactions. I'd need to know their relationships in order to create the most effective wards, after all. Very soon, it became clear to me that Maria-Star had already been accepted as an integral part of the group. And I smiled as she joked around with Tray and helped him take more than twenty Styrofoam cartons from the bags.

Sookie bustled about for a moment and then introduced me to Andy Bellefleur and his daughters; Claude—the full-blooded fairy—introduced himself as Sookie and Lafayette went to the mud porch to talk something out. I got the feeling that Lafayette was asking Sookie to forgive him for something significant. And I got an even stronger feeling that Sookie was happy to do just that.

Soon, the rather flamboyant African American man was making a call and telling whoever Sam was that he was going to be eating lunch where he was. And Lafayette's aura was a lot clearer too. I already knew that he had a lot of natural magic in him and figured I'd ask him if he wanted some instruction later. After all, with so much power, he could create "accidents" if he wasn't careful.

I then turned my attention to the young fairies in the group.

It became clear after only a few minutes of observing them that they'd been adults for only a day or two.

Amazing!

It was also clear that their father was still grieving for a fourth child, a girl who'd died at the hands of the creature that I was needed to ward against. Andy Bellefleur watched his remaining children as if they might suddenly disappear. Adilyn seemed ready to comfort him at every turn, going so far as asking if he'd make her a plate because he would do it best.

The father had beamed as he'd gone about his task.

An empath—I'd thought.

"She _is_ an empath," Danika confirmed, coming up behind me. "And your thoughts are the loudest I've ever heard!" she added, before going over to Sookie and whispering something to her.

Sookie smiled at me and brought "Danny" back over to me, saying that I was the perfect candidate to help the young woman with her "shields." After some instructions, which were given verbally, and more—which were obviously offered telepathically—Danny seemed pleased as she shook my hand. Then she bounced away to fix her own plate.

Sookie explained that the other two girls, Braelyn and Adilyn—or Brae and Addy—had been born with a slightly different form of telepathy and didn't need help mastering their "shields" because the skill of "keeping out others' thoughts" came naturally.

I nodded as Maria-Star gestured for me to come and sit next to her after I'd fixed a plate of my own.

It didn't escape my notice that Brady had stayed outside, and it also didn't escape my notice that Sookie got a mischievous look on her face right before she asked Lafayette to take Brady one of his world famous burgers.

The hamburgers were very good, but I wondered if the way to Brady's heart would really be through his stomach. Honestly, I figured that Lafayette's—Lala's—kickass body might be a more tempting motivation. The cook clearly took care of himself and had biceps that I appreciated very much, even though I was off the market. I thanked God that I was bisexual for about the thousandth time in my life.

Because I was, I was able to appreciate the beauty of _both_ genders.

"What's bisexual?" Danny asked me pointedly.

Andy Bellefleur choked on a bite.

"It means she's attracted to both guys and girls," Lafayette said as he sauntered toward the front door. "Lucky bitch," he said more quietly as he passed me and winked.

Didn't I know it!

Danny, who seemed to be the leader of the Bellefleur sisters, looked at me with a smirk. "You're with Maria-Star—right?"

My girlfriend tensed a bit next to me.

"Yes," I answered proudly.

Andy looked slightly uncomfortable. Clearly he was trying to be "progressive" for the sakes of his daughters, but progressiveness was sometimes difficult for men of his age who'd been brought up conservatively. I just appreciated that I wasn't feeling judgment from him. That would have made doing a protection spell involving him much harder. If anything, I felt Andy's active attempt at acceptance, and that effort was good enough for me.

Danny smiled. "I don't blame you. Maria-Star's pretty, and if I didn't have my mate already picked out," the girl paused, "who knows?"

I giggled at the girl's brazenness even as Maria-Star flushed red and suddenly decided that she needed to go make a patrol.

"So who's your mate?" I asked the young woman.

"The one on the right," she said, pointing at Sookie's belly. "Our right. Not Sookie's."

I snorted out a laugh.

"The one on the left is mine," Adilyn said more shyly, looking at her father to gauge his reaction and then patting his hand comfortingly. "But not too soon."

Andy seemed to sigh with relief, and I let out another laugh.

"So—uh—the wards?" I asked. "I need to know who is gonna be living here full-time. And Maria-Star mentioned another house, too."

Sookie nodded. "Yeah—uh—the old Compton mansion. It was restored when Bill became the King of Louisiana, and Eric has control of it now, though I can tell he doesn't really want it. By right, it should probably be Andy's or Terry's," she added somewhat pensively.

"What?" Andy asked incredulously.

Sookie took a big gulp of the water that she'd just laced with six teaspoons of salt before looking at Andy somewhat sheepishly. "Didn't you know that Bill was your kin?"

"Huh? What?" he asked.

Sookie took another drink as if the salty mixture was sweet ambrosia. As soon as the glass was empty, Adilyn picked it up and went to refill it as if the move had been choreographed. I grinned at the empath, who was already mixing salt into the water even before she put it in front of Sookie.

"Yeah," Sookie said to Andy as she gratefully took the refilled glass and stirred in the salt, "This morning, I remembered something Gran said once, and I looked it up in the bible Terry brought over."

"Bible?" Andy asked, clearly confused.

"Daddy, cousin Terry brought over the bible with your clothes this morning—before you got up," Braelyn informed.

"But we want to call him _Uncle_ Terry if that's okay," Danika said.

"Because you two are really more like brothers than cousins," Adilyn added.

"And we don't like Aunt Portia anyway," Danika informed, "so can we just not call her anything? Or ever again?" she finished snidely.

"Oh, and if we call Cousin Terry, 'Uncle Terry,' can we call Arlene, 'Aunt Arlene?'" Braelyn asked sweetly.

"We like her," Adilyn and Danika chimed at the same time.

"Uh—yeah," Andy said, though he was still looking confused. "Uncle Terry and Aunt Arlene. Sure. I'm sure they'd like that."

"Thanks!" Adilyn and Braelyn enthused.

"And _no_ Portia?" Danika asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Sure. No Portia," Andy relented. "Wait—Terry brought over our family bible?" he asked, getting back on topic and finally catching up a little.

Sookie nodded. "Yeah. Terry thought it might give you some comfort—after what happened." She paused to wipe away a tear from her eye, and Andy cleared his throat as if besieged with sudden emotion. Sookie quickly changed the topic. "Um—the bible's so pretty and reminded me of Gran's family bible, and that's when I remembered that Gran mentioned once—years ago—that the Bellefleurs should have helped out old Jessie Compton after he had that fall that broke his hip. When I asked her why, she said that she thought that y'all were related."

"Related?" Andy asked. "Related to old Jessie? No one ever mentioned that!"

Sookie shrugged. "I don't know if Bill knew either. But, according to your family's bible, Bill's daughter married a Bellefleur in the 1870s. That makes Bill your great-great-great-great grandfather," she added, counting out the "greats" on her fingers before taking another drink.

Andy turned a little green. "But Bill dated Portia!" he cringed. "I think they might have even—uh—um." He looked sick.

Sookie spit out a drink of water. "Andy Bellefleur! Not another word. We do _not_ need to think about that!"

"I don't either," Andy agreed. "Um—I'm sure that Portia didn't know, and she doesn't seem to remember dating Bill at all anymore. In fact, she seemed a little scared of him the last time he was mentioned. I figured that Bill got tired of her—since she tends to get a little clingy—and did his glamour thing on her."

"Or he found out about your family's relationship to him," Sookie offered, wiping up her spewed water with a pile of thin Merlotte's napkins.

"Hopefully before anything too serious happened," Andy commented.

Sookie agreed with a nod.

"Probably better that Portia _never_ knows," Andy winced.

Sookie agreed with another nod.

Luckily, neither of them saw the wicked look on Danika's face. It was clear that the girls didn't care for "Aunt" Portia, and I didn't doubt that they'd be using the information about her relationship with "Grandpa" Bill against her if she ever crossed them.

I sort of pitied Portia Bellefleur, though I'd already gotten the impression that she wasn't worth my emotion.

"Oh—uh—well. So we're related to Bill. That's weird news," Andy said gruffly, changing the subject from the possible "distant" incest which had occurred between Bill and his sister.

"Yeah. And I think that you and Terry should have Bill's old house," Sookie said firmly, "at least until your place is fixed. Plus, 'Bellefleur Manor,'" she added, using air quotes, "always seemed more like your grandmother Carolyn's place and—now—Portia's place. Oh—by the way—Eric's on that."

"On what?" Andy asked, clearly confused again. "On Portia!"

"No!" Sookie exclaimed, half laughing at the misunderstanding and half furious at the thought. "No!" She laughed at her own anger. "I meant that Eric has already arranged for the repairs on your house."

"He didn't—uh—have to," Andy stammered.

"He wanted to," Sookie said with a soft smile. "Anyway, like I was saying, I think Bill's old house should belong to you and Terry. It'd be plenty big for both of your families. Plus, it'd be nice to have y'all living across the way from us," she enthused.

The Bellefleur girls seemed to be teeming with excitement as well.

"But—uh—shouldn't the house go to Bill's vampire kid? Jessica?" Andy asked.

"Actually, like I said, Eric owns the house right now," Sookie said. "And—from what he told me—Bill left Jess some money. I doubt she'd want the house anyway."

"How is it that Eric owns the house?" Andy asked.

Sookie bit her lower lip, clearly contemplating how much to tell Andy about vampire politics. "Eric is the acting vampire king of the state," she said after a few quiet moments. "Bill's estate reverted to Eric since it was the official residence of the monarchy."

"Are you the queen?" Danika asked excitedly.

Sookie almost snorted out another drink of water.

"Hell no!" she laughed. "And—if I know my husband—he's already thinking of ways to _not_ be king. But, while he is king, I think it'd be a good idea for him to get rid of Bill's estate and establish the 'official seat' elsewhere. I'm not comfortable with the next king or queen living next door—even if Eric handpicks him or her."

"You're too damned perceptive for your own good sometimes," Tray muttered as he looked up from eating his third Lafayette burger.

Sookie rolled her eyes in Tray's direction, but quickly brought them back to Andy. "Eric was intending to use Bill's mansion as a headquarters for his vampire stuff, but I know he really doesn't want to. Anyway, Terry, Arlene, Coby, and Lisa are already staying there—at least until your house is repaired. Um—and the girls could actually use the dungeon as a protective space—since—uh—the cells there have silver bars."

Andy frowned. "Shouldn't we talk about all of this with Eric? Plus—uh—we wouldn't want to put y'all out any more than we already have."

"You aren't putting us out," she smiled sweetly. "And—frankly—Eric initially contemplated using Bill's old place before we knew about the boys. Now that they are on the way, I don't think Eric would be upset about conducting Area business far away from here—far away from both your girls and my boys," she added significantly.

Andy frowned. "We'll talk about this again—after Eric wakes up," he said firmly.

Sookie simply smiled and winked.

"I could add a spell to the ward to interfere with all the fairy scents when they are on either property," I offered. "It would basically make y'all smell like 'vanilla humans' to anyone not able to get past the wards."

"But vanilla is good!" Braelyn commented.

Sookie chuckled. "I know. But _supposedly_ it means plain or uninteresting. I always thought that saying was ridiculous, too."

"Me too," I smiled. "But it might help."

"Thank you. We appreciate anything that would help. So—uh—what do you need for your wards?" Sookie asked, focusing her attention onto me.

I thought for a moment. "Now that I've been here, I know that there are a couple of ingredients I'll need that I don't have. Am I right that _you_ are the primary owner of the house?" I asked Sookie.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's Eric's house too and our babies' house, of course, but Eric was worried that vampires could get in without an invitation, so he signed it back over to me. Um—I don't know how things will work with the guards. I think some of them will be staying here too. And, of course, so will Andy and the girls and Holly unless they move to the other place."

I nodded as I took in the information and made some mental calculations. "I think I can find the fresh ingredients I need at a grocery store," I said with a smile. "I came with a trunk full of almost anything else I could think of. All you have to do is provide the cornerstone."

"Cornerstone?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah." I smiled. "It's symbolic really." I gestured around the room. "What holds all of this together? I'll need something that is representative of that 'glue'—that foundation. The ward will work without it, but a cornerstone would make it stronger."

Sookie thought for a moment and then got up and went to an old buffet table. She smiled when she found a Polaroid camera in it.

"I'll be right back," she said determinedly.

Five minutes later she was back, shaking a freshly taken Polaroid picture of Eric Northman. "My husband is the strongest piece in this house—the cornerstone," she said confidently. "The foundation. Would this work?" she asked, handing me the picture.

"It's perfect," I said with a smile. "It won't take me long at all to get what I need, and then I'll set the wards, though they won't mature until after King Eric awakens."

"Mature?" Sookie asked.

"It can take up to a day for a ward to fully mature; however—don't worry—the wards will keep out most things right away," I comforted.

"What wouldn't they keep out?" Sookie asked.

"Anything with a great hold over magic and with a commanding knowledge of how wards work could, perhaps, get through immature wards, but even my mentor would have a hard time making a breech."

Sookie nodded but bit her bottom lip worriedly. "Why does it take wards so long to mature?" she asked.

"The cornerstone, in this case, King Eric, will have to 'prove' himself to the magic—prove worthy—but I doubt if that will be an issue," I added with a smirk as I examined the picture. Undeniably, King Eric was one handsome dead guy! Yanking my thoughts from my appreciation of the vampire king, I stood. "Well—I'm gonna get goin'," I said as I moved toward the door.

Sookie followed me. I wasn't sure if she was coming to see me out or call me out for momentarily ogling the picture of her mate.

Luckily, it was the former. "So—uh—do you need anything else?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No. And don't worry. I'll be able to build a strong ward here," I smiled. "And then I'll get to work on the other house. Given the strong auras of the girls and their dad, I'll be able to build a strong one there too, but I'll need to meet the other residents to make sure I make it as effective as possible. They are human—right?"

"Yeah. Terry and Arlene are both working until about midnight," she said.

"Then I'll plan on staying late," I smiled.

"Will your ward really keep Warlow out? Off the property?" Sookie asked, her voice quivering with apprehension for the first time. Clearly, she'd been putting on a brave front. "He killed one of Andy's girls," she whispered, "and I just can't bear to imagine . . . ."

Her voice caught as she placed her hand over her belly.

Love emanated from Sookie Northman like a shockwave of magic.

"Incredible," I whispered.

"What?" she asked.

"A fairy and a vampire made babies," I grinned.

"How do you know they're Eric's?" she asked me with concern.

"Because of the magic in this house," I said looking around me. "Every curtain. Every piece of furniture. Every plank. Every swish of paint. Every piece of wallpaper. Everything tells me that there's immeasurable love here."

"Eric restored the house for me," Sookie whispered. "Piece by piece. Board by board. I went missing for a year, and he had no way of knowing if I was alive or dead. Everyone else gave up on me, but he _never_ did," she said in an almost unworldly tone. "And that was _before_ we were even together."

I took Sookie's hand and enjoyed the feeling of her uncontained magic flowing around the room—and into me. I knew that I would set a better ward because of it. "Your magic comes from love," I whispered.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Love for your vampire," I said.

"Yes. _Mine_."

She seemed a little "lost" in the moment. No. A better word was "gone." Perhaps, she had gone to the place where her mate was sleeping—dead to everything except the magic within him which kept his body whole. Or, perhaps, she was drawing upon the elements of the earth itself.

Yes. Around the Northman home, I would be able to make a very strong ward indeed!

I reiterated that fact aloud as Sookie seemed to come back to herself.

"Maria-Star's gonna be here a lot, and you are welcome any time, Amelia," she said sincerely.

I chuckled. "So that Danny can practice on my loud mind," I said, lightening the mood.

Sookie nodded. "Yeah." She closed her eyes. "Speaking of loud minds," she grinned widely, "Lafayette is quite _taken_ with Brady."

I giggled. "Someone would have to be in love with someone else not to be," I replied knowingly.

She snorted. "Except Brady seemed to be into my brother last night."

"Is your brother gay?"

"No. Clueless."

I winked. "I've known Lafayette for about a minute, but I can already tell he'd be difficult not to love."

She sniffled.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We'd had a falling out. Lala lost someone he loved recently. And then Tara, his cousin and my best friend, was brought over—by Eric's child actually. Tara didn't take it well at first, and Lala blamed me because he couldn't bear the fact that he was the one who first suggested that Tara be turned."

I frowned. "It's always easier to blame other people—when we don't want to blame ourselves. Or when we don't want to blame the person we love the most," I said, thinking about my father.

I sighed. I knew my father loved me more than anything, but that's what made my relationship with him so hard. And it was also the reason why I hadn't cut him out of my life—no matter how difficult it had been to face his disapproval.

Maria-Star thought that I was too forgiving when it came to him, especially since my frequent calls from him always ended in a guilt trip. She had a point when she told me that if he really did love me, he wouldn't see my character traits as faults. He'd simply love me as I was. But she didn't know my father. I knew that he was scared that all of my choices were taking me away from him, and I knew that was because my mother had left him.

I couldn't help but to wonder if Lafayette had loved Tara more than anything. If so, blaming Sookie for Tara's rejection of him would have been a defense mechanism—just as blaming my mother for all my "rejections" continued to be my father's excuse for being a douchebag at times.

I was not really surprised when Sookie hugged me as I moved to open the door.

"Wait just a sec," she whispered when she let me go. Her eyes were closed as if she were concentrating.

"What is it?" I asked in a whisper of my own.

"Lala and Brady are flirting with each other, and Lala is wondering if it's too soon to ask for his number since Jesus died so recently. He's feeling guilty about being attracted to someone."

"Oh!" I said, amazed by her gift. Being a natural witch meant that I had a strong sense of the magic around me and a good instinct about how to use it; however, Sookie's magic emanated from within.

After another thirty seconds or so, my new friend grinned and opened her eyes. "Brady just asked Lafayette for his number. _And_ for a date once the Warlow thing is over." She sighed and her smile faded. " _If_ the Warlow thing is ever over."

"It will be," I said, even though I had no way of knowing that for sure.

"Thanks for trying," she returned sincerely, though she'd obviously heard my doubts.

Telepath.

"Since Maria-Star isn't back from her patrol yet, I'll go to the store with you," Tray suggested, approaching from the dining room.

"You think Amelia might be in danger?" Sookie asked worriedly.

"Probably not," Tray said. "I doubt she'd be on Warlow's radar, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

Sookie nodded in agreement and told me to be careful as Tray and I went out onto the porch.

Lafayette was waving a goodbye in Brady's direction and getting into his car.

"Hooking up on the job?" Tray teased.

"Multitasking," Brady said with a twinkle in his eyes. From the level of power and energy that Brady emanated, I figured that not much could get past him even when he was "multitasking."

"I'll be going with Amelia to the store so that she can get what she needs to do her ward," Tray said with a smile in my direction. I couldn't help it that my heart went pitter patter a little. I could certainly see how Tray Dawson would be the man of many women's dreams, and—if I hadn't already found the woman of my dreams—I might have been tempted to do some flirting of my own.

But I _had_ found her.

And on Hummingbird Lane, I felt like I'd also found something else: a lot of potential friends and allies.

And I was anxious to help to protect them.

* * *

 **A/N:  
**

 **I hope you liked this INNER-Lude. I know that it's LONG, but I wanted to introduce you to this Amelia (she's quite different from my others) and give you more information about Maria-Star in the process. Plus, I wanted to give you an idea of what is going on this "day" as Eric is "dead."**

 **This morning, I will also be posting several chapters Eric's POV in From the Inside Out (to get this site caught up with where the story is on my blog). And we'll get some Eric/Sookie alone time if any of you are craving that.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


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